


Agent Eleven in his Prime

by RavenGryphon



Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Actually Bendy dicks down everyone here, Anal, Anxiety, Blood, But Wait There's More!, Corpse Desecration, Death, Doggy Style, Face-Fucking, Fear, Fluff, Foursome, Gore, Group Sex, Gun Violence, Henry is a good dude, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Killing, M/M, Mating Marks, Panic Attacks, Part 2, Paternal Henry, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pseudo-Incest, Psychological Trauma, Rape, Restraints, Tail Violence, That AU of an AU where Agent Eleven gets rekt, Who Makes Stupid Choices, Worship, eating people
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2019-11-19 10:55:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 30,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18134828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenGryphon/pseuds/RavenGryphon
Summary: This is a short story AU of my main story, Bendy and the IRL AU. It makes more sense in context, but works fine by itself. If you like it, you should check out the main story.This happened by request; Doceo_Percepto, Sp00py, and TailsFan95 all wanted to see Agent Eleven get rekt by Bendy, and contributed ideas and inspiration. I aim to please (and am flattered people care enough about my OC to want such a thing). Since you can't really kill FBI agents without huge consequences, it had to happen in an AU of the AU.Warning: Shameless torture porn. This is about half a notch rougher than my usual writing. Mind the tags.





	1. Call 911

Agent Eleven makes it a point to visit the studio himself on a regular basis. He's only able to check the uppermost floor without upsetting Bendy, but he feels it is important to check the security and make sure no unauthorized persons are getting through and into the den of the dangerous demon. Normally he takes at least one other person as backup, just in case Bendy is feeling grumpy. However, today Eleven couldn't find a field ready agent to come with him. Rather than let it slide another day, he decided to break protocol and check, anyway.  
  
The studio looks much as it does every time Agent Eleven visits. Dusty, dripping with ink, and creaking, he always gets the feeling that the place is about to collapse under his weight at any moment. At 5'10, Agent Eleven is not the tallest FBI agent. But his sharp, clean clothes and neat hair style radiate professionalism. His gracefully aging face and his sandy hair turning gray give him a look of experience that demands respect from people. Eleven's pale eyes always seem calm and piercing, looking past any mask at the truth underneath. And the current truth Eleven is seeing is that Bendy is not as “reformed” as the demon claims he is.  
  
He reaches the end of his patrol, the stairwell that leads down into the music department and the realm of former musician Sammy Lawrence. He pauses, staring at the wall near the top of the stairs. Has that smudge always been there? It's faint, but in the shape of a hand print. He walks this way at least twice a week, and has never noticed it before. Eleven stops at the top of the stairs and gazes down them. Is someone down there right now? Are they still alive? Or have they already fallen pray to the two monsters and their sick little game they refer to as “sheep”?  
  
He grabs his cell phone and tries to contact the nearby house he and his fellow agents currently occupy. No signal. He taps his fingers against the phone, considering. He shouldn't proceed into a dangerous situation without backup. But he also would never forgive himself if someone got killed because he failed to act. His job is to protect the public, after all, even if that means putting his own life in danger. In any case, Bendy knows him. And the demon knows better than to attack a federal agent. Surly Bendy and Sammy wouldn't hurt him just for dropping by and saying hi, even if he does go deeper into the studio than they want him to.  
  
Decision made, Agent Eleven starts down the stairs, rolling his feet to soften his steps. If he does walk into anything incriminating, he plans to sneak back out unnoticed. Assuming the so-called “sheep” is already dead, anyway. If someone is in the middle of getting eaten, he's not sure what he will do. Eleven knows the loaded gun at his hip won't do much damage against creatures made of ink.  
  
The room that Sammy refers to as the “ritual room” is fairly deep within the floor. Eleven slinks along as quietly as he can, but there's not much he can do about the creaking floorboards. When he gets closer to the ritual room, he pauses, a chill slipping down his spine. Is that someone sobbing? Eleven swallows, almost regretting his choice. Maybe he should retreat and get backup. How many times has he berated agents for going directly into danger with no one at their backs? Then a soft, pleading cry filters through the walls. Someone is definitely in there. He simply can't turn his back on them. It would mean their death.  
  
Still padding softly, Eleven approaches the door and nudges it just open enough to peek through. And into the scene of a horror movie. Bendy the demon is bigger than he normally is, and is crouching down on all fours while dragging the mangled body of a human being across the floor. The person, all disjointed limbs, exposed bone, and slipped organs, is somehow still alive, gasping and making soft sounds as Bendy mutilates them. As Eleven watches, a naked but still masked Sammy reaches out and grabs a handful of intestines, rubbing it across his lower belly and erection, smearing himself with blood and bits of flesh. Bendy, still with one ruined leg in his teeth, gives the unfortunate human a viscous shake, pulling another strangled cry from them as the lower leg severs in the demon's mouth and slips right down his throat.  
  
Agent Eleven is in shock. He's seen many things in his years serving the United States. But he's never seen two ink monsters pull apart a still living and sobbing human being with their stiff cocks out. He freezes, stuck between the urge to help and the need to retreat. This person is obviously not going to make it. Bendy steps forward, drops his hips onto the human, and starts grinding into the open cavity of their body. Sammy is singing and calling out praises to the demon, still stroking himself, encouraging Bendy to take what he wants and use the human as the demon sees fit. Eleven can feel the sexual energy and blood lust sparking through the room.  
  
With a final look and silent apology to the gurgling human, Eleven slowly closes the door to retreat. He'll report what he saw and make sure those two never hurt anyone again.  
  
Click.  
  
Thanks to his shaking hands, Eleven accidentally clicks the door shut just hard enough to make a sound. He holds his breath, listening. There's silence on the other side of the door. No chanting, no bones crunching, no wet sounds of a dick sliding through exposed organs. Agent Eleven weighs his options. Panic makes him want to run away as fast as he can. Logic says his only hope is to remain perfectly silent and hope they return to their kill.  
  
The door slams open unexpectedly and catches Eleven right in the head, making him stumble backwards dizzily. How?! He hadn't heard a single footstep. He manages to catch his balance and turns to run, but it's far too late. Bendy, in his four legged monster form, simply pounces on Eleven, knocking him over and caging the man between his forelegs. Eleven lies on his back and pants in barely controlled terror, arms held up and crossed in front of his face as gore drips down from the creature's grinning teeth.  
  
Bendy chuckles, his voice deeper than usual. “Ooh, Agent Asshole. There's a reason why I told you to never come down this far. Don't you know wandering is a terrible sin?”  
  
Bendy lowers his massive head and delicately snares Eleven's sleeve in his teeth, then starts dragging him back to the ritual room. His own teeth bared in a snarl, Eleven digs his heels into the smooth floorboards, bracing his free hand on the demon's face and trying to rip his arm free. His tailored suit is too well made to tear, though, and Bendy keeps dragging him back into the room.  
  
Once deposited on his ass in a corner, Eleven tries talking. “Bendy, wait. I know this looks bad, but you don't want to do this. Please think this through! You'll only make your situation worse!”  
  
“Hmm, you know, there's one thing I can't stand when I'm having fun. And that's interruptions. Sammy, tie this sheep up.”  
  
Sheep?! Agent Eleven's stomach drops as Sammy replies with an eager “Yes, my lord!” Sammy snatches a length of nearby rope and grabs at Eleven's arm. Sammy is an easier target to fight, though, and the FBI agent's training kicks in. He pulls his legs up and braces his feet against Sammy's chest, pushing the creature backwards while drawing his gun. Eleven fires a shot and hits Sammy center mass. The man jerks backwards with a yowl as the bullet rips clean through his ink. Behind him, Bendy flinches at the sound and snarls, realizing that siccing useless Sammy against an armed and trained FBI agent probably won't work. With an annoyed crack of his tail against the wooden floor, Bendy leaps over the staggering Sammy, still whining about his wound, and pins Eleven again, knocking him down. Bendy grabs his wrist in his teeth and chomps down, threatening the arm until Eleven drops the gun. A swipe of Bendy's tail knocks it well away.  
  
“Sammy, stop howling and get over here! Take his phone, too.” Bendy growls, annoyed. He doesn't like it when his sheep have even a tiny fighting chance. He prefers his victims nicely tied up and uselessly struggling against the inevitable. Sammy slinks up with the rope, ink still pouring down from a quarter sized hole in his chest, and ties Agent Eleven up snugly, getting his wrists and ankles. Eleven tries to not gag at the creature's naked, gore covered body so close to his.  
  
By the time Sammy is done, Bendy is already back at the person, who is now a cooling corpse. He takes great scooping mouthfuls, crunches it down a few times, then swallows. Bones, flesh, organs, clothing, it all gets devoured until there's only a few gross looking bits left behind. Already distracted from the pain of being shot, Sammy watches, again stroking his gore covered member.  
  
“My lord, it seems some sheep is left on me.”  
  
Bendy swings his head up and gazes at the man with a terrible grin. He approaches, slinking forward, long dragging tail slipping like a snake through the blood and mess left on the ground, making an odd trail through what's left of the human.  
  
Not three feet away from where Eleven huddles, Bendy knocks Sammy down on his back and starts lapping the blood and bits of organ off the man's stomach and privates. Sammy moans in pleasure, wrapping his fingers around Bendy's horns and stroking them as the demon purrs. After only a few moments of attention, Sammy cums, and Bendy laps that up, too. Once the ink man is clean, Bendy starts nudging him needily. Taking a guess at what his master wants, Sammy gets on his hands and knees, bracing himself for what's about to happen.  
  
Bendy mounts Sammy like an animal, already huffing and grunting. Eleven can't help but to watch as Bendy starts working his hips, looking for Sammy's hole. Now that he's forced to witness this so closely, Eleven realizes that Bendy's cock is lined with... Something. Bristles? Small spines, maybe? Whatever it is, when Bendy successfully drives it home, Sammy arches his back and howls in agony.  
  
As Bendy brutally saws in and out of the hapless creature, the force of the mating actually slowly pushes Sammy across the floor, even when Bendy grabs the back of his partner's neck and pushes him into the ground. As ink drips down from between them, Eleven's not sure how Sammy can take such pain without frantically trying to get away. Instead, the ink creature cowers underneath the demon, yelping and flinching and getting shoved down onto the floor.  
  
Apparently this isn't enough blood for the demon, as he raises his claws and starts dragging them down Sammy's back in deep, slow gouges. At the small of Sammy's back, Bendy lifts his hand and starts again, sinking them down into the back of Sammy's shoulder and parting his ink.  
  
To Eleven, their coupling seems to last hours. In reality, he's sure it was only a few minutes. But witnessing such violence and realizing that he could very well be next makes time slow. They are close enough to the agent that there's no way he could wiggle out of the corner and attempt an escape. Even in Bendy's distracted state, he would be noticed.  
  
Finally, Bendy sinks his claws into the back of Sammy's neck and tips his head back, snarling in pleasure as he cums. The man under him is largely unresponsive at this point. Bendy takes a moment to recover, then disengages with Sammy with a soft grunt. His cock is gone, Eleven notes almost hopefully. Maybe now Bendy will be in a better state of mind and understand that it's best for everyone involved if Eleven goes free.  
  
Still breathing heavily, the demon shifts slightly to take his normal two legged form, shrinking down in size as his arms shorten and his fingers lengthen to more resemble hands. He sits back on his haunches and blinks at the intruder. Then sighs deeply.  
  
“You're an idiot, you know that?” he tells the human.  
  
Eleven swallows. “We can work something out, Bendy. This doesn't has to be the end for either of us.”  
  
“Well, you're right about that. This is definitely not the end. Come here.” Bendy lunges forward and grabs Eleven, easily lifting the man and tossing him over his shoulder. Bendy glances around and grabs Sammy by the ankle, then starts walking towards a door, dragging Sammy behind him. Inside is a small room, almost a closet, with a desk, a microphone, and little else. Bendy dumps the two on the floor with little care. Eleven is unable to catch himself with his bound hands and grunts as his head knocks against the floor, taking another hit.  
  
“Sammy. Sammy. Sammy!!” Bendy kicks the spent man, who moans in response. “I need you to watch Eleven. Keep him in here. Got it?” Another soft groan. Bendy sighs again, mumbling something about Sammy's uselessness, and stomps out of the room, door slamming and locking behind him. Eleven immediately starts to inchworm his way towards the door, but ink is oozing through the doorjamb, sealing it shut.  
  
Eleven pauses and tries to collect his thoughts. He needs to remain calm and think this through logically. So far Bendy has been unresponsive to words. Now is his best hope of escape. He only has an old rope binding him and an unconscious guard. So he starts working on his bindings, testing them and feeling them give. Yes, he can get out, it will just cost him some time and skin.  
  
Pulling, wrenching, and twisting, Eleven works his hand, scraping his skin raw on the rough rope. It's well worth the discomfort when his hand drags free. He quickly gets the rest of the rope off his wrists and ankles, then steps over Sammy to check the door. It's solidly stuck. Not only is the knob locked, the tightly wedged ink leaves no give when Eleven yanks on the door.  
  
He takes a step back and considers. If he still had his gun, he could shoot the door until it splinters enough for him to get out. Still, that wouldn't exactly be a stealthy escape. He glances around the room for something he can use to wedge the door open. A crowbar would be ideal, but of course, he's not that lucky. The only things here are a broken down radio, some pens and papers on the desk, and the microphone hanging from the ceiling. He could take the radio apart for some wire to jimmy the knob unlocked, but that won't solve the bigger problem of the ink. Unfortunately, there's no convenient fire axe, either. Eleven starts taking laps around the small room, tapping the walls and looking for signs of rot or other weak spots he can break through. He's not picky; he doesn't have to use the door.  
  
Some time passes. Eleven gazes at Sammy, almost feeling sorry for the creature. Sure, Sammy was involved in the so-called “sheep” game and arguably got what he deserved. But seeing the naked man balled up on the floor, hands pressed to his lower stomach, makes Eleven remember that more often than not, Sammy is a victim to Bendy's cruelty. And it's not like he can make rational decisions. Sammy should be safely tucked into a facility for the criminally insane for his own good, but fat chance finding a place that's able or willing to take him.  
  
Agent Eleven kneels down and touches Sammy's shoulder. The man responds by tightening his fetal position. Some ink pools underneath him, mostly from his back, but he's certainty experiencing internal bleeding as well. Eleven never had much problem with Sammy. He understands the man is doing his best; it just so happens that what Sammy thinks is best is worshiping an ink demon. If Sammy had better, healthier guidance when he went insane, chances are he would be a very different person now. Eleven wishes he could get ink for Sammy, then shakes his head at himself. Trying to revive his own guard. How absurd. He gives Sammy one last pat on the shoulder that he hopes is comforting, then resumes his search for an escape.  
  
More time passes, and Eleven's poor luck holds out. The wooden walls feel just as solid as the door. Still, he doesn't give up, testing each spot. Then double checking, knocking and tapping and listening. Then the ink drips off the door and Bendy reappears.  
  
The demon looks amused as Eleven flattens his back against the wall he was just tapping. “I see you got loose. Trin'a find a way out?”  
  
“You know what has to happen, Bendy. I can't just vanish. People know where I am, and expect me back. What are they going to think if I disappear when I walked into the studio?”  
  
“Hm. You make a good point. But I've learned somthin' bout humans. They dun like to close cases without somethin' called 'evidence.' So alls I gotta do is eat the evidence. Problem solved. However, if I let you go squealing back to your buddies, I'm going back into that horrid little cell you built for me n Sammy.”  
  
“No, you don't understand. I'm not some lost runaway or a homeless person. I am a federal agent. People will tear this place apart looking for me. I'm talking DNA swabs on the floor, checking for blood splatter, all sorts of high tech stuff you probably don't know about. And if you tear me apart, they WILL find SOMETHING. You're not exactly good at cleaning up after yourself, and all it takes is a drop of blood for them to condemn you.”  
  
“Interesting. Thanks for the information,” Bendy says with a grin. “I'll take that into account. For now, though-” Bendy steps over Sammy and advances on the man. “For now, I think I'll have a bit of fun. Somethin' I've wanted to do for a long time.”  
  
Bendy grabs Eleven by the neck, squeezing it tightly enough to make him wheeze. His claws start delicately plucking at his clothing, pulling out his tucked shirt. Eleven pushes his hands against Bendy's chest, trying to shove the creature back and off of him. Though the FBI agent keeps himself fit and strong, he is no match for an ink demon. He starts to fight dirty, grabbing the bow tie that is a part of Bendy's body and ripping at it, kneeing Bendy's crotch, stomping at the creature's goat legs, and every other trick he can think of.  
  
Bendy snarls. He enjoys giving pain, not receiving it. Though Eleven isn't really hurting him badly, it's enough for Bendy to feel it. Then the man manages to snag Bendy's waving tail and starts mashing, yanking, and twisting it in his hands, trying his best to break it.  
  
No. Bad. Going from annoyed to furious, Bendy ducks down, lowers his head, and jams his horns right below Eleven's rib cage, catching him and throwing him over the demon's shoulder.  
  
Eleven is not used to fighting horned creatures. He is wholly unprepared for the attack and lands in a heap behind Bendy, cracking his head yet again. Dazed and having landed badly, Eleven tries to pull himself back up, but only manages to flop around on the floor. Bendy steps on him, pressing a hoof right in the center of the man's chest, and cradles his tail close. He pets the wounded thing as he glares at Eleven.  
  
“Ya had to go and play dirty, eh? You really think that's going to work out for you?” Bendy drops down on top of Eleven, pinning him down, and resumes work on the man's clothing, this time yanking hard at it.  
  
Bendy is angry now, Eleven realizes. Maybe he shouldn't have gone for the tail. He's in the same position as before, only now Bendy has cause to hurt him more. But Eleven is a straight man. He's never wanted sexual attention from a male, especially not from an enraged monster who spends his free time raping and ripping people apart. This is going to hurt. Eleven doesn't want to be hurt. To be raped. He can't lie back and take it, he has to fight back.  
  
Bendy has his pants and boxers pulled off now. Still trying to blink the fuzziness out of his eyesight, Eleven curls his legs up and tries to use his knees to push Bendy off him, still pushing with his hands as well. He manages to slither away along the smooth floor, but his head hits something. Sammy, who's now looking up from the floor with interest at the struggle.  
  
“Sammy, don't just lie there. Hold him down!”  
  
Sammy stiffly sits up and grabs Eleven by the shoulders, forcing him down. Eleven's wide eyes dart up at the masked face, horrified. To think just a while ago he felt tenderness towards this creature. This being who is now assisting in Eleven's rape.  
  
Right, right. This is happening. Relax and breathe. Eleven looks down and sees Bendy position himself between his legs, evil grin locked on the agent's face. A cock, large but thankfully free of those spines from earlier, twitches eagerly against Eleven's inner thigh. The demon takes a moment to explore the man's body, sliding his hands up under his shirt to feel his firm stomach and strong, sweating chest. He then slides his hands down, scraping the skin lightly while Eleven shivers in fear of those claws, and cups his ass. Bendy purrs happily.  
  
“A little older than my usual sheep, but still quite nice. You've taken care of yourself, Eleven.” He squeezes the ass in his hands hard enough to bruise. “You must work out a lot.”  
  
Eleven is still working his legs, kicking and trying to somehow squeeze them shut even though there's an ink creature between them. “Bendy, no. I don't want this. You're assaulting and raping a federal agent. But you haven't done anything yet. We can still move on from this. We can still work things out. Just talk to me! Please, Bendy, think about what you're doing! You're trading your freedom for this!” Eleven is panting now, trying to contain his terror and largely failing.  
  
Bendy ignores the man's pleas. Bendy sits up a little and grabs a leg underneath the knee, forcing Eleven open a little more. The agent grunts and bares his teeth as he renews his fight, but it's no use.  
  
The blunt tip of Bendy's cock pushes against Eleven's body. The demon slicks the area with a glob of ink spit to help, and with his usual lack of care for his mate, he starts stabbing against the unfortunate man. Just the feeling of getting his tight hole pushed against is enough to cause Eleven more pain than he expected. The demon's not even inside yet, and already the man's muscles are cramping in protest.  
  
With a frustrated growl, Bendy pauses to use a finger and work Eleven open a bit. Eleven yelps when he feels a claw scrape against thin skin. He twists his hips and tries again to writhe away. His hands are on the ink creature's hips to try to push him back. “Bendy, Bendy, please stop, no, Bendy, no, don't--” No longer trying to reason with him, the poor man is reduced to mindless, panting begging as he squirms. No matter how Eleven tells himself to relax to make it easier on himself, he simply can't. He's too panicked.  
  
Bendy pulls his finger out and tries again. With the man's muscles forced slightly open, Bendy is able to stab inside when he bucks sharply against Eleven.  
  
Searing pain stabs through Eleven's hole as his skin rips and muscles give and are forced open in a way they are not ready for. Tears prick his eyes as he gasps and his body stiffens and stills in shock. The demon doesn't give Eleven time to adjust, and starts pounding into him as roughly as he pleases, purring in pleasure.  
  
Breathe. Breathe. Oh, God, he's not breathing. A wave of sickness washes over him as his stomach turns and his body protests loudly over what's happening to it. From his upper stomach all the way to the splitting and tormented end, Eleven's body cramps and threatens to spill his lunch. The way his body snaps back and forth with Bendy's fast pumping doesn't help his illness.  
  
Bendy chuckles as he stares into Eleven's red, twisted face. “Ya gonna breathe again?” he asks gleefully, his own breath starting to quicken. “Hm, I gotta give it to ya, Agent Asshole. You are tight. Ugh, really clingin' onto my cock, aren't ya?”  
  
As Bendy leans forward and over his victim to push in deeper, Eleven presses his palms against the monster's chest with the intent to keep fighting him off. However, he's still too overwhelmed with pain to do anything but take what Bendy is giving him.  
  
Finally the nausea eases and Eleven manages to take a deep, shuddering gasp. The act of breathing somehow causes more pain, but he keeps dragging in more air. Breathe, breathe, try to relax and breathe through it. Their bodies are making a sickening sound as they slap together wetly. Eleven tries not to think about how much blood he's spilling. He also tries to not think about the last two places Bendy's cock was. Especially the torn guts of that poor person. The sounds made then were horribly similar to what he's hearing now, and the thought of his own guts going through such a thing causes yet another cramp to rip through his body.  
  
Tears drip from the corners of Eleven's eyes. He can't help it. His body is stretched tightly around the demon's merciless cock, and every thrust makes fire tear through him. Bendy lowers his head and licks up the tears with a smug chuckle.  
  
“You have no idea how-- hah-- satisfying it is to tear you apart. Mmmnnff. Physically, mentally, emotionally... Ah. This might just be the best day of my life,” Bendy pants.  
  
The demon grabs Eleven's cock and starts massaging it, angling his cock to try to hit that sweet spot. Eleven lets out a pitiful cry at the further molestation, then his body stiffens again as Bendy finds what he's looking for.  
  
“Ah! Bendy, what--?” Much to the man's horror, he starts to get hard as whatever it is Bendy's doing forces him to feel good. “Stop! I don't want it!”  
  
Bendy grins and keeps working, pumping the man's member in time with his hips.  
  
“Ooh, Bendy's real good at making you cum,” Sammy comments. Eleven glances up at the eerie mask, having almost forgotten the man is even there and witnessing Eleven get fucked apart.  
  
It's not a lie. Even through the horror and the agony, Eleven can feel a knot pf pleasure building in his lower gut. He doesn't want it. He doesn't want to cum, to get even the slightest amount of pleasure from this. What if this is all he can remember when he cums, for the rest of his life? In Eleven's mind, the attack is mutating from something he can compartmentalize as something simply physical into something that will have long term effects on his life. Assuming he lives long enough to experience the PTSD.  
  
Bendy keeps his pace up, and Eleven feels the knot build and build until he can't contain it any longer. No matter how he fights it, his body betrays him and cums, bucking weakly up into Bendy's body.  
  
More tears drip down his face. Eleven lies still now, not bothering to fight back anymore. Somehow he feels even worse now that he's peaked. His body aches in ways he didn't know was possible. His insides feel raw, almost like they're sticking to their intruder. He feels exhausted from his panicking, and his hands shake where they rest on Bendy's chest. Bendy latches the claws of one hand into Eleven's rump, and hooks his fangs into the side of the man's neck. Eleven stays limp, and doesn't resist even when Bendy breaks skin and draws blood. A few more grunts and sharp thrusts, and Bendy finally stills, his tail cranking up and down stiffly and his body shivering against Eleven with pleasure.  
  
They stay locked together for a moment while they both pant. Bendy unhooks fangs and claws and sits up to look over his work. He hums happily at the mess he's made. At some point the human's shirt had torn open, leaving him disheveled and bare chested. Eleven stares up with glassy eyes, still not fighting back even after Sammy releases his shoulders and sits back. With his legs sprawled open and the monster still inside him, Eleven has never felt as vulnerable and used as he does now. He hurts physically, of course, but there's a deeper pain he knows he's only feeling the edge of now.  
  
Bendy finally pulls out, trickling something out when he does so. “You did great, there, Eleven! But, ya know, I'm still not hungry. That last sheep was so filling. And I've been thinkin' bout what you said before. Ya know, them lookin' for blood. So I think I'll keep you a while longer. Have more fun with ya.” Bendy glances down. “Oh, well, there's a lil blood on the floor here, I guess. But we're not in the ritual room, and it's not much. Sammy, clean this up.”  
  
“Yes, my lord.”  
  
Bendy stands up and scoops the limp man up in his arms while Sammy slides his mask over and leans forward on hands and knees to lick up red blood and black cum. The exhausted Eleven barely processes any of this as Bendy carries him down to the lower levels.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry...


	2. One Plus One Equals...

Agent Eleven is in pain. He's not sure how long he's been locked in this small room, or how many times Bendy has raped him. As always, he hobbles stiffly around, checking and rechecking the walls and door, even moving his cot around to check the ceiling, desperate for a way out. The small room only contains a bed and a bucket. Bendy often gives him water, and occasionally food. The expired bacon soup is bad, though, and Eleven has trouble getting it down, much less keeping it there. With a soft groan, he shoves the cot over yet again. It hurts to lift his leg high enough to climb on it, but he does it anyway. After all, everything hurts. The pain will be worth it when he manages to find the weak spot that his simply knows the old building must have. The whole place is falling apart, how can this one room be solid? That hope is the only thing keeping him calm, so he focuses on it. He taps on the ceiling, checking for soft spots. And slowly climbs off the cot to move it again.  
  
Somewhere in his mind, an itching doubt tells him he's acting insane. That he should lie down and rest because Bendy will be back soon, and he needs to heal as much as possible before the demon touches him again. He shoves that thought aside yet again, as well as the underlying panic. Even if he doesn't find the weak spot (which really does exist), the FBI will be here any moment. They will find him and release him from this never ending hell.  
  
His room has no windows, and is so dark that for the first long while, he couldn't see a thing. Now he can barely make out the slightly lighter shape of his bed. He mostly relies on his memory to get around. He only knocked into the bucket once before deciding to never ever forget exactly where it is again. Spilling that slop all over the floor is about the only thing that could make this ordeal worse.  
  
The constant freezing temperature never lets him forget that he's at least in the basement, if not the sub basement. He's naked, all his clothing long since stripped from him, and only has the thin blanket from the cot for comfort. At first he kept it wrapped around him as best he could, but that interfered with his wall tapping, so he decided to brave the cold without it. By now he barely notices the cold moment to moment. Until he stops moving, and the horror and darkness and loneliness and cold creep into his bones and he starts to have a panic attack.  
  
Eleven was never a nervous person before. Calm and level headed, he could face any situation and logically think out the best solution. He prided himself on being the most unflappable person on the force, an attribute that landed him this assignment in the first place. Not anymore. Now he seems to get panicky over every little thing, or even over nothing at all. He blames that on the constant thumping of the ink machine. It's always there, making it impossible to sleep or allow him to think about anything except constantly reminding him how horrible his situation is. He tells himself that his new nervous nature has nothing to do with sensory deprivation or being used as Bendy's personal sex toy. All he needs to do is get out of here, and he'll be completely back to normal. Like this whole thing is a nightmare that never happened.  
  
He pauses to sip from his small water supply. He's thirsty and wants to gulp it all down now, but Bendy is stingy with it. He has to be careful and space it out. Standing still makes him start to shiver violently, from nerves or cold he can't tell, and he wraps his arms tightly around himself and rocks slowly back and forth. It's an old self soothing trick leftover from his childhood. He hasn't had to use it since before puberty, but in his current situation the ancient habit came back. It's ok, rocking himself a little is better than crying.  
  
His legs hurt, and he knows he should lie down and get some rest. But if he does, he'll probably start panicking again. He rocks harder, trying to keep the tears away. This isn't like him. All weepy and stressed. He wants his old personality back. Old Eleven would know what to do, instead of standing here being pathetic.  
  
No, no. There is no “new” or “old” Eleven. This isn't some long term, permanent change. It's just the ink machine getting on his nerves, thumping into his soul, making it impossible for him to think. If only he could have a moment of silence, of a clear head, he could figure this out. He shuffles his feet on the floor and realizes he hasn't checked it in a while. Slowly, stiffly, he kneels down to start tapping on the floorboards. The steady knock of his fingers and the job to focus on calms him again. It's ok. They'll be here soon, anyway. Any minute now, any minute now... 

Somehow, Eleven manages to fall asleep. Curled up as tightly as his aching self can manage, wrapped in his thin blanket like a burrito, his abused, sleep deprived body drops deeply into oblivion. Naturally, when he's finally getting the rest he so desperately needs, Bendy decides to show up. The moment the lock rattles, Eleven rips out of sleep, confused and scared. He scrambles backwards on the cot until his back hits the wall and looks wide eyed at the now open door. He can't see the black demon standing in the lightless hallway, but he knows Bendy is there, grinning at him in amusement. Eleven sees that soulless face every time he closes his eyes.  
  
Eleven draws his legs close and wraps his arms around his knees. He logically knows he can't fight Bendy. He couldn't fight the demon off when he was fully rested, fully armed, and fully well. Now he's hungry, cold, thirsty, sleep deprived, and wounded. He has no chance. Fighting back will only make it hurt worse. But he still can't help himself. Some fighting instinct won't allow him to accept the abuse. He sits, curled up and tense, waiting for the demon to come.  
  
Hooves thump on the wooden floor, and Eleven flinches at the sound. Something else he knows he will always associate with his time here. Like sex, or the cold. Once he's out of here, he'll move somewhere warm and live in a solid brick building with tile or carpeted floors and never let anyone touch him again. He squeezes his eyes shut and waits for the demon to touch him. What else will Eleven do when he's out of here? Oh, he'll have lots of long sleeved shirts, and a thick cozy robe to wear around his house that won't have any exposed wood. And slippers, so his feet will never again be so cold that he can't feel them. And have as many hot showers as he wants. And also--  
  
The demon's hands grab Eleven's shoulders and yank him forwards. Eleven's heels immediately dig into the cot as he tries to resist being manipulated. He fails miserably, of course. He always fails. How can he be an FBI agent? He can't even protect himself. Tears are already gathering in his eyes as he pushes his hands against Bendy, struggling to keep the monster away.  
  
“Bendy, wait. I need more time. Let me rest and heal. I can't do this again. It's been too often--”  
  
“Shh shh shhhh,” the demon soothes, and simply cradles Eleven against his chest. The man pushes back against him for a moment, then stops resisting. Bendy is warm, and his heartbeat is oddly comforting, as are his strong arms. Yes, Eleven hates and fears Bendy, but damn, he needs all the comfort he can get. Still, he hates himself for enjoying the simple contact.  
  
The man shuts his eyes, sniffles, and starts to tremble in Bendy's arms. The ink creature slowly pets the agent, mumbling softly to him. Eleven whimpers in response. He's never felt so weak. He shouldn't let Bendy touch him like this. But instead of pulling back, he presses his forehead against Bendy's chest, feeling some seed of warmth somewhere deep inside him. His emotions flip flop between self hatred and telling himself that needing some gentleness is ok.  
  
The monster ruffles Eleven's hair. “There, there, you're alright. You're perfectly fine. You don't need to heal.”  
  
Oh. He's still going to fuck him. Eleven starts squirming again. “No, Bendy, you've used me too much. I'm too sore. One more day, please, just let me sleep,” the once powerful FBI agent whines and begs.  
  
The demon keeps making soothing sounds as he easily forces the man down on the bed, flipping him over so he's bent forward over the cot. Eleven resists weakly, flopping around like a dying fish, lashing out with hands and feet that glance harmlessly off Bendy. Once positioned over the bed, Eleven changes tactics. Instead of fighting Bendy, he tries to crawl away. He has absolutely nowhere to go, but he knows he doesn't want to be underneath the demon.  
  
Bendy finds the man's struggles amusing. Eleven's kitten like attempts to fight off the monster excites the beast and makes the game more fun. So instead of getting annoyed at Eleven's resistance, Bendy simply tugs him back into position, then lets him struggle away for a moment, only to drag him back yet again. Like a cat toying with a crippled mouse.  
  
Although Eleven is mostly blind in the darkness, Bendy can see just fine. He sees how red and chapped the agent's rump is, especially when he slowly peels apart the cheeks and sees how the raw, broken down skin sticks to itself. The constant mating paired with a lack of showers is taking its toll on Eleven's body. Not that Bendy minds. If anything, it makes his job easier; he only has to touch Eleven to make him yowl in agony. No claws required.  
  
Eleven groans as Bendy inspects his ass. If the area between the tormented man's cheeks is raw, his hole and insides are agony. Eleven wonders if the demon's habit of using his inky spit as lube, to say nothing of the ink cum, is somehow hurting his skin and corroding the flesh. No matter what the cause is, the slightest touch of the inflamed skin is enough to make Eleven want to die.  
  
When Bendy starts prepping him for use yet again, applying ink and manipulating his butt, Eleven kicks backwards in desperation. Bendy is the master at kicking, though, and predictably, the attack is easily dodged.  
  
“Do you know what you're doing to me? Do you even understand?” Eleven asks, trying to appeal to the demon's gentler nature. If such a thing exists.  
  
“Of course,” he responds. “I've been raped before, long ago. Many times. I know what it does to you. Even up here,” Bendy taps the side of Eleven's head.  
  
“Then why are you doing this to me?”  
  
“Because it's fun. And it feels good.”  
  
“You won't get away with this. Any time now, the FBI will come and--”  
  
“Oh, they've already been here.”  
  
“...What?”  
  
“Yeah, they came pokin' round. Asked some questions. But funny thing is, I never seen ya that day. Your car isn't here. And for some reason, your phone is traveling on the interstate miles and miles away.”  
  
The bastard must have ditched his car and tossed his phone on a passing truck. “They'll figure it out... You can't fool them forever...” But even as Eleven says it, he feels his heart drop. What if they really never find him? “Besides, there's a guard posted outside. They saw me here.”  
  
“Oh, yeah? Huh. Wonder what happened to them. Funny thing is, they seemed to have walked off the job that day. They really need to vet their security guards better.”  
  
Bendy is getting better at tying up loose ends. Eleven's despair worsens.  
  
A moment later Bendy is pushing inside, ignoring the thrashing and screaming of the creature underneath him. He growls softly with pleasure at the way Eleven's convulsing grips his cock firmly.  
  
“It hurts,” Eleven gasps. “It hurts.”  
  
“Even after all these times, you still feel amazing,” he informs the struggling man, hooking one hand around a thigh and using the other to push between his shoulder blades and pin him down. Eleven's not sure how there's any tread left. Maybe if he could learn to relax and not struggle, Bendy would finally lose interest and kill him. As it is, he can't help but to ball his fists into the cot and continue to try pulling himself out from under the demon. He's firmly in place, though, and it's a waste of effort.  
  
As Bendy starts to pump, Eleven curls his back up like a startled cat, tucking his hips and trying to twist them away. Or, at least, trying to prevent Bendy from pushing so deeply. The demon tries to coil his legs a bit and get under the evading man, but the position isn't as comfortable. He can't drill quite as hard as he wants to, or go as deep. Bendy solves this problem by moving his hand down from Eleven's shoulders to his back, pushing him flat onto the cot and forcing his hips back out. The downside is Bendy gives up some control of Eleven.  
  
Feeling the loss of pressure, Eleven takes the chance to bolt. He slips away from the monster, climbing up on the bed with a sudden unexpected agility. From there, he spies the still open door. Bendy is so confident in Eleven's helplessness that he keeps the door hanging open while with the human. Eleven is practically blind and may actually be in a state of starvation, but he takes his chance and runs out the door, immediately bouncing off the wall opposite his cell, and limping awkwardly down the hallway as fast as his gimpy body can go.  
  
It's not fast enough. Before Eleven can even feel like he's putting distance between himself and his prison, Bendy is there, slamming him back against the wall of the hallway, breathing hard right in his face and tail popping with excitement. Right. Bendy is a predator. Maybe running from him is not the best idea. Ignoring this logic, Eleven immediately resumes fighting, punching at the demon's jaw, stomping on the hooves, and snapping his teeth at the bow tie.  
  
Bendy responds by lashing forward and clamping his sharp teeth around Eleven's ear. The man stops cold, feeling teeth prick his flesh and threaten him. He knows how easy it would be for Bendy to click those teeth shut and neatly remove his ear. Eleven likes his ear right where it is. And, so far, Bendy hasn't done anything that couldn't theoretically be reversed. The thought of being damaged in a way that would remind him of this trial every time he looks in the mirror is horrifying.  
  
“I'm sorry,” he whispers hoarsely. “Please don't. I'll be good. Don't take my ear.”  
  
Bendy removes his teeth and starts licking at the blood beading around the ear. Eleven breathes a shaky sigh, crisis averted for the moment. The man rests his hands on Bendy's shoulders and takes the moment of peace. After everything he has suffered, tolerating Bendy licking him is almost pleasant. Eleven is well aware of Stockholm syndrome, and realizes that he might be experiencing it, at least in part. It may also be that Eleven simply prefers dealing with Bendy's attention when it does not involve agonizing pain. Eleven tilts his head back to allow Bendy to lick at his sweaty neck, sharp teeth lightly nibbling. Honestly Eleven's just glad that Bendy isn't angry at his feeble escape attempt. The reprieve is short lived, though. Bendy gathers both of Eleven's wrists and pulls them high up over his head, pinning them against the wall. With summoned ink, Bendy sticks them there. Eleven, unsure of what just happened, gives his arms an experimental tug. They are well and truly stuck. He blinks at Bendy as the demon forces his legs apart once again, getting ready to resume breeding.  
  
“No, wait,” Eleven helplessly pulls at his bindings, yet another panic attack starting to grip his chest and throat. He doesn't like this. He wants to be able to at least try to fight back. Not pinned to the wall like some collected insect. Panic grips him tightly while Bendy easily pushes back inside his body. Completely helpless, the man isn't able to give the slightest resistance.  
  
“Please l-let me l-l-loose,” Eleven whimpers, starting to hyperventilate. “Pl-please. I-I can't b-breathe-- B-b-bendy-y--”  
  
The demon's solution to this problem is to grab a fistful of Eleven's hair and give it a good yank, wrenching his head to the side.  
  
“B-b-buh-ben---” Eleven can't seem to draw a breath. He needs to be let down. His arms are too high, his chest is too tight.  
  
Bendy grabs Eleven by his thighs and hoists him up against the wall, relieving some of the pressure off the hapless man's arms and chest. Finally, Eleven is able to sip in some air, easing at least some of his overwhelming fear. Getting raped in pitch black darkness by a literal demon is enough cause for panic, he doesn't need to add being unable to breathe to that.  
  
After a few minutes of this, Bendy lets Eleven's legs back down and pulls him off the wall. He shoves the man down onto his hands and knees and kneels behind him. Bendy likes the panicked reaction Eleven had from being physically restrained. So to continue that fun, Bendy quickly summons more ink and forms a spreader bar, which he shoves between Eleven's knees, forcing them farther apart. Eleven whimpers and tries to crawl forward, but Bendy easily stops him and immediately thrusts back inside.  
  
Eleven is somehow feeling both overstimulated and numb at the same time. Not being able to breathe properly makes an effective distraction from the pain. So he only groans softly at this while his chest seizes with fear at being forced open and raped, hands scrabbling uselessly at the floor.  
  
Bendy rubs his palms over Eleven's back, running his claws lightly over the raised, infected scabs. Bendy likes clawing his mates, but the human doesn't heal quickly like Sammy does. Bendy pauses at the edge of one particularly deep wound across the shoulders. The scab is raised slightly, and Bendy slips his claw underneath it, grinding it into the red swollen flesh. This draws a reaction from Eleven, who lifts his head and keens weakly. Bendy manages to grasp the scab and slowly pulls it off, all while still plowing into the man's rear. Eleven's arms give, and his chest drops to the floor, accidentally ripping the rest of the scab off while he does so. Bendy chuckles, leans forward, and starts lapping up the blood trickling from the torn skin.  
  
Bendy is getting close. Eleven is starting to collapse, so the demon hooks the claws of both hands into his hips, holding him up while he finishes. The monster pumps the man's hips back and forth as he moves, forcing him to slap back onto his cock with every thrust. Bendy starts to growl as Eleven starts to groan, pushing harder and faster until, finally, he cums.  
  
The moment Bendy releases the hips from between his hands, Eleven falls to one side, spent. Bendy dismisses the ink holding his legs apart, then scoops up the man to carry him back to his cell.  
  
Bendy lies the unresponsive human back onto his cot, then lies on top of him with a happy purr. It's not unusual for Bendy to lie on top of him like this, and while Eleven wants to fight back, he simply doesn't have the strength. He spent it all trying to fight Bendy off during the rape. Pathetic, Eleven thinks to himself. He can't push Bendy away even when the demon is asleep. The agent falls asleep shortly afterwards, though he doesn't want to sleep in Bendy's arms.  
  
Some unknown time later, Eleven jerks awake when his stomach cramps. With a soft groan, he levers himself up and squats over his bucket. The ink cum inside his body seems to hurt almost as much going out as it did coming in. He carefully dabs at himself with a bit of toilet paper that Bendy was kind enough to provide. Even that is enough to make his eyes water in pain. Eleven has trouble believing that this is actually his life now. As clean as he can make himself, he stiffly stands up straight. And realizes the demon is still asleep on his cot, tail tapping slowly on the floor. And the door, as always, is open. Normally Bendy has the man tight in his clutches while they sleep, but not this time. Has his luck finally turned?  
  
Eleven quietly pads to the door and looks out at the blackness of the hallway. It's a testament to the level of Eleven's abuse that he does not immediately leave. He hesitates, glancing back at Bendy. What if he doesn't make it out before the demon wakes? What would Bendy do to him? He's actually scared to even attempt an escape.  
  
Eleven blinks at himself. What is he doing? He's wasting valuable time! He needs to go, NOW!  
  
Eleven sets out, reaching his hand until he finds the wall. Running it along the wall as a guide, he takes the direction that Bendy comes from when he visits his prisoner. Eleven stumbles along in the darkness, tripping over unseen debris as he goes. He ignores the many doors along the way, looking only for stairs leading up. After a few minutes, though, he pauses, suddenly worried. What if the stairs are behind a door? Or in one of those branches of hallways he'd passed. He swallows, then pushes forward. It's the only thing he can do at this point. He probably couldn't find his way back to his room, even if he wanted to.  
  
It feels like he staggers around in the darkness for hours. The friction of his butt cheeks rubbing together is enough to drive him insane, so after a while he uses his free hand to reach back and carefully hold them apart so he can walk with less pain. Don't think about it, he tells himself. Just do what you have to do so you can get out of here. It's ridiculous to him that his horrid pain could largely be relieved by basic over the counter medicines and creams. Just get out, then he can... What, go to a hospital? Where they will poke and prod and ask questions he really doesn't want to answer? Or just go home, where he can hide from the entire world and never leave again. After all, he's pretty sure his injuries will heal fine on their own. Broken skin, while painful, is hardly life threatening. Still, he's going to have an awkward conversation when he shuffles up completely naked to the guard watching the studio. What does he tell them? To the people who come pick him up? Right now he just wants some aspirin and to feel safe enough to get some decent sleep, dammit, not play 20 questions with his well meaning co-workers. Co-workers who will know what he's been through. Everyone will know, he realizes with the drop of his stomach. They'll never look at him the same way again.  
  
When he stumbles across the staircase quite unexpectedly, he hesitates again. How can he possibly dread getting out of here? But he does. He doesn't just want to leave, he wants to magically go back in time to before all this happened. That's impossible, he knows, and he forces himself to stiffly climb the stairs. Don't worry about it now, he tells himself yet again. Just get out. His co-workers will understand. They'll be gentle and understanding, even if they look at him with pity in their eyes. They'll give him clothing and speak to him in soft tones and feed him good food. Before taking him to the hospital and demanding answers. No, don't think about it now!  
  
The floor above is slightly lighter than the one he was on. After some aimless wandering, he realizes he's on the toy floor. He frequently comes across blobby Searchers and bony Lost Ones. For whatever reason, the often hostile Searchers leave him alone, though they watch him as he shuffles past. The more docile Lost Ones reach thin fingers out to him with soft whines, but while he is sympathetic to their plight, Eleven has no comfort to give.  
  
At the next staircase, he pauses. If he remembers correctly, he's about to go up into the music department. Sammy could be a problem, but with the man's memory loss, it's also possible that he will forget Eleven was ever a captive. Though, since he's currently naked, maybe not. He has to try. If Eleven comes across the music director, he will pretend like everything is normal.  
  
Eleven knows his way from this floor, so he slinks along as quickly as he can, keeping his head down and hoping to miss Sammy. More Searchers and Lost Ones track his progress, and they make him nervous. Bendy is connected to the ink creatures, after all, and any one of them can serve as a spy to the demon. He hears Sammy talking to himself, and glances down a hallway he passes to see him kneeling before a Bendy cut out shrine and performing some sort of ritual. Perfect, Eleven thinks to himself as he sneaks by unnoticed. The stairs to the top floor greet him, and he scurries up them. Almost there, almost there, hurry, go faster. Now on very familiar territory, Eleven jogs towards the exit. He'll never come back into this building again. No matter what the circumstances are. Someone who's not him can deal with the demon now. He's paid his dues.  
  
The exit is in sight. He stumbles down that last hallway, hand outstretched. And mere steps from the exit, a clawed hand snares the back of his neck.  
  
Eleven starts screaming at the top of his lungs as he's yanked backwards. He throws everything he has into wrenching away, shrieking “Help! Help me!! I'm in here! Oh, God, please, help me!!” But once the demon has his claws in Eleven's flesh, there's no escape. No amount of twisting and pushing and kicking can break that grasp. It doesn't help that in his mindless panic his loses his training and doesn't think to use the moves needed to break holds that were once drilled into his head. All he can do is flail and scream as Bendy easily tosses him over his shoulder and heads back deeper into the building. Eleven watches the exit vanish as he sobs helplessly. It's not fair! He was so close. It's just not fair...  
  
Bendy is chuckling, his tail happily wagging back and forth. He knew, Eleven realizes. He knew this whole time. This is nothing but a game to the monster. Eleven strikes Bendy's back weakly with his fists, furious and full of despair, but unable to do anything about it except cry. Down, down, back into the darkness he goes. He wonders if he'll ever see light again. 

 

Eleven realizes Bendy is having sex with him. He knows this, but only distantly. He lies underneath the demon in his tiny room and lets it happen. He doesn't do much else these days. He no longer taps the walls or hopes for rescue. He lies still and stares at the darkness. Maybe he sleeps sometimes. It's hard to tell. Very rarely he still takes water, but he hasn't bothered trying to eat in... Well, a in a long time. He experiences everything from a distance, and sometimes doesn't even notice when Bendy is doing things to him.  
  
Bendy manipulates and uses Eleven as he pleases. At this moment, Bendy just finished, cumming inside Eleven for the countless time. He purrs happily as he pets the human, feeling the open, raw, infected sores on his bony body.  
  
“Well, Eleven, it's been fun. But I'm afraid you're not long for this world. As much as I'd love to keep you, I don't want you dyin' on your own. I want to kill you myself. And, well... You're not lookin' too good, buddy.”  
  
Eleven does not respond. Honestly, he doesn't listen much to Bendy these days. The demon likes to ramble on about this or that, and the man finds it easier to tune him out and think about absolutely nothing. When Bendy picks him up and starts walking, Eleven relaxes limply in his arms. The rocking steps actually lulls him briefly to sleep. Bendy supports his head and carries him carefully. After all this time with the human, Bendy has become quite fond of him. He's saddened that this has to happen. It's been fun keeping a human slave.  
  
Once in the ritual room, Bendy lowers Eleven slowly to sit him on the ground, back against a support beam. The man blinks as he wakes up, squinting in the low light of the music department. He's been in darkness for so long that he's unaccustomed to using his eyes. Bendy walks off to talk to Sammy in low tones, and Eleven's mind wanders to things he hasn't thought about in a long time. He's closer to the outside world than he's been in a while. He wonders if the outside is the same as it was before. He supposes the world has moved on without him. The earth still turns, the sun still rises, the seasons still pass. The FBI still exists, as does his apartment back east. Oh, yes, his apartment. He doesn't spend much time there, as he's often out on assignments, but he misses it dearly now. He wants to go to it. It's small and neat, a little bare of decorations, and definitely lacks a woman's touch. But it's his home. He remembers feeling safe there. Oh, he wants to feel safe again. He wants to be tucked into his own bed again. He wraps his arms around himself and shivers.  
  
Eyes finally focusing, he looks down at a body he does not recognize. His form is no longer lean and well muscled, but is now skin and bones. His flesh is dotted with angry looking wounds and sores and is stained with ink. Especially between his thighs. He rubs his fingers against a thigh, the deep need to keep himself clean still there. Of course, the stain resists the rubbing fingers easily. As he looks down, he can see the greasy locks of his tangled hair. He touches it. He doesn't think it's ever been this long before. A patchy, scruffy beard also covers his face. He's never grown one out before, preferring to stay clean cut and neat.  
  
Bendy and Sammy approach him, Sammy with rope in his hands that he wraps around Eleven to bind him to the beam. Is that really necessary? He can barely stumble across his cell to the bucket, he really doesn't think he's an escape risk now.  
  
“Bendy?” Eleven asks.  
  
“Shh, it's ok,” the demon responds. That normally means something Eleven won't like is about to happen. It doesn't take much imagination to figure out what's going on. Even though Eleven's been through so much, he realizes he doesn't want to die. He's not exactly young, but he's still in his prime. Or, at least he was before his kidnapping. He still has some life left in him, dammit! “Bendy...” he whines. “Please. Please let me go.”  
  
Bendy tilts his head, interested. Eleven hasn't begged in a long time. Hasn't done much of anything in a long time.  
  
“You won. You proved your point. You're more powerful than I am, better, smarter, trickier. The FBI never came for me. I never could escape or fight you off. You have nothing more to gain. Look at me. I'm-” Ruined. Broken. Shattered. He doesn't want to say these words out loud, though they are true. “I'll never be the way I was again. Let me go home. I won't – I won't say anything. I don't care if you kill people anymore. Eat as many as you want. Just – just let me go. I'll do anything. I'll quit the FBI, you'll never see me again. Or, or I'll get that cell you hate torn down. I just want to go home, Bendy. Please. I – I need to go home.” His voice cracks, but no tears come. He hasn't been able to cry for a long time.  
  
Bendy kneels down in front of the human and pets his hair affectionately. “Oh, Eleven. I like you so much better now. But you don't understand. I'm not quite through with you yet. I'll never be done with you. I want you to belong to me forever. It's the least you can do, after trying to break my tail. Yeah, I haven't forgotten about that.”  
  
Eleven feels that old familiar fear deep in his gut. “You're going to turn me into a monster.” Granted, with his thin form and ink stained skin, he already looks halfway like a Lost One.  
  
“Monster's a strong word for it. Sammy, start the ritual.”  
  
Sammy starts his sheep chant.  
  
“Bendy... Please. I don't want to. You don't need to do this. Just... Just let me go. I can't hurt you now. You must know that.”  
  
Bendy keeps petting and shushing him. Sammy keeps going with his ritual. Eleven looks at the two and can't find even a hint of humanity in either one.  
  
“Bendy?” Eleven tries again. Is he really going to do this to him? After everything he's been through?  
  
“Shh, shh...”  
  
“Please...”  
  
The chant ends and Bendy sits on the floor in front of Eleven, removes the pointless ropes from around him, and pulls him forward into the demon's lap. The demon cradles him there while Eleven whimpers softly. He wants to resist, to fight, to live. But he's so tired and broken down that all he can manage is to brace his hands against the demon's chest.  
  
“Please... Don't...”  
  
Bendy closes his teeth around Eleven's throat, cutting off his air. He presses his other hand against Eleven's belly, pushing firmly on his stomach before slipping his claws easily through the skin and dragging downward, slicing him open and exposing his guts.  
  
Eleven's head is tilted just enough to one side so that he can see his organs as they slip out. He makes a choked sound, trying to cry out but unable to around Bendy's teeth. He pushes a little firmer against Bendy's chest, but he knows he's already dead. He's far too weak to survive something like this, even if he got medical help right now. Still, his body protests its death, and Eleven starts to convulse. It hurts. His chest burns, his eyes roll back, and his tongue starts to lull. Oh, God, dying hurts.  
Eleven squeezes his eyes shut as he spills his last few tears, finally starting to pass out from lack of oxygen.  
  
A minute later, Bendy releases Eleven. He purrs as he drops one shoulder and rolls in the man's spilled organs, coating himself with blood. He had granted the human a somewhat quiet death, allowing him to die before starting to eat him as a minor thank you for the fun he'd given him these past few months. Now that the man is gone, Bendy starts to eagerly consume his body, wanting to swallow down every last bit. 

 

Eleven exists. He's not sure how, as he remembers his death vividly. He pulls himself instinctively forward, climbing out of what feels to be a pool. He slowly gets to his feet. His body doesn't hurt like it used to, and he's not quite as tired as he was before. But when he looks down at himself, his skin is black as tar. His belly is whole once again, not gashed open and spilling his insides. His genitals are gone, as well as his body hair. He holds up his black fingers, then touches his face to find it dripping slightly. He's a Lost One, he realizes. An ink creature. And he's stuck here in the studio.  
  
Keening softly, mournfully, the creature who was once the strong and confident FBI Agent Eleven shuffles through the hallways. Time passes meaninglessly. He doesn't much think about it, as he knows this is his existence for his foreseeable eternity. No body, no home, no comfort. Just cold ink and fear and his memories and regrets.  
  
Then Bendy finds him. “Aah, there you are,” the monster says, reaching out and running his hand down Eleven's cheek. The former man stares up at the demon, afraid and wondering what the creature wants. His genitals are gone, which he is sad about even if he never wanted to actually use them again. His penis was still a part of him, and he misses it. But that means Bendy can't rape him anymore.  
  
Bendy grabs Eleven and pulls him over to a nearby chair, which the demon sits on. He pulls the ink creature onto his lap, grinning up at him. Eleven braces his hands on the demon's shoulders, much like he had during his months of torment at the devil's hands. Bendy's cock is out, Eleven realizes, still not understanding. With a chuckle at the unfortunate Eleven's confusion, Bendy lifts him up and seats him onto his cock. Much to Eleven's horror, his new inky body simply sinks down onto it. Bendy's dick boring into his body hurts, and Eleven cries out as Bendy rapes him yet again. No, no. No, no. This can't be his life. He died, he can't be raped now. He opens his mouth and the one line he can say as a Lost One comes out.  
  
“Please, let me go. I just want to go home.”  
  
Bendy chuckles as he slides Eleven easily up and down his cock. “Silly Eleven. Haven't you figured it out yet? This is your home. And, lucky you, we can do this as often as I want, any time I want. Fun, right?”  
  
“Please, let me go. I just want to go home.”  
  
“Well that's going to get old. Don't worry about it, Eleven, if you get too annoying I can just seal your mouth closed. It's not a problem.”  
  
“Please, let me go. I just want to go home...”

  


Alternate Ending:  
  
“...I'll do anything. I'll quit the FBI, you'll never see me again. Or, or I'll get that cell you hate torn down. I just want to go home, Bendy. Please. I – I need to go home.” His voice cracks, but no tears come. He hasn't been able to cry for a long time.  
Bendy sits down in front of the human and pats him affectionately. “Oh, Eleven. I like you so much better now.” He removes the pointless ropes and pulls the man into his lap. He starts petting his hair and humming to him, rocking him back and forth.  
“Bendy...”  
  
“I don't know, Eleven. I was gonna kill ya. Turn ya into an ink creature. Keep ya here forever. But I kinda like you the way ya are. You radiate such delicious pain. And,” he chuckles at this, “it's kinda fun to think about you limping through the rest of your life, terrified of your own shadow. Hmm... Such a difficult choice!”  
  
Eleven shallows, wondering if he should beg or if doing so will hurt his chances of surviving. He has to say something, though. “Please... I just want to live...”  
  
Bendy sighs. “I guess I've had enough of you. But, Eleven. You promised not to say a word about this.”  
  
“Yes, Bendy. Please, I won't say a thing. Not a word. Please, Bendy.”  
  
“Shh, ok.”  
  
Bendy lifts the man while Sammy voices his complaints about losing a sheep. Bendy carries Eleven up and outside. It's dark out, and Eleven shivers and huddles closer to Bendy's chest in the brisk night air. Bendy easily eludes the posted guard by slipping around to the back of the building. There, he hops over the tall fence with ease, even with Eleven in his arms. Of course, Eleven thinks dully. It was dumb of them to believe a simple 6 foot fence could keep in a strong and clever shapeshifter like Bendy.  
  
The creature carries him about half a mile down the road to a rundown but still operational truck stop. There he waits in the shadows until an opportunity presents itself. A big rig with an open topped trailer filled with potatoes pulls up at the fuel pump. Bendy, once again, is able to slip through the night and climb up the side of the truck unnoticed, where he digs a small pit into the potatoes and deposits Eleven in them. The man shivers there, looking up at Bendy with confusion.  
  
“The next stop, make some noise and let the driver know you're there. You should be a long ways away by then. I don't give a shit what you tell people, as long as it has nothing to do with me. Got it?”  
  
Eleven nods dumbly, still not sure if this is even happening or not.  
  
“Oh. And Agent. If you betray me, you'll wish I had killed you. Got it?”  
  
The man cowers and averts his eyes. “I'll never say a word. I swear. Please...” When Eleven glances back up, the demon is gone.  
  
Eleven follows Bendy's instructions, huddling within the potatoes and spending a freezing night in the elements. When he is found, he doesn't say a word about his ordeal. He deals with it by simply not responding to any questions asked of him, refusing to even give his name. He's brought to a hospital as a John Doe where he receives the medical care he desperately needs, though he has to be strongly sedated before he can be examined. Of course, the staff know right away that he is the victim of sexual abuse, and police are contacted. From there it doesn't take long for them to figure out who Eleven is. But the more questions they ask him, the more he shuts down. The constant sedation doesn't help.  
  
Even with the drugs, he can't seem to relax, though. His anxiety and insomnia follow him even though the danger is gone. He can't stand it when hospital staff touches him, even for simple medical procedures. He experiences panic attacks every time they so much as take his blood pressure. When they try to calm and soothe him with words, his fear only grows; when Bendy did such things, it only meant something horrible was about to happen.  
  
He simply can't feel safe. The shadows all look like demons to him, and he keeps seeing Bendy in the corner of his eye. He can't take being in the dark. When darkness closes around him, he thinks he's back in the cell, waiting for Bendy to come for him again. Once he is even caught tapping the walls while shaking and sweating because some well meaning person turned off his light while he was asleep.  
  
Finally, finally, he is well enough to return to his apartment. He is brought there by an FBI agent Eleven knows well. She pauses at his door and tries to look into her old co-worker's eyes, but Eleven doesn't make eye contact these days. He keeps his arms wrapped around himself and looks at his feet.  
  
“Well, we're here...” she starts. Eleven doesn't reply. “Did you want me to go inside with you?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Ok. Well... I want you to know, if you ever want to talk about anything... And not just about what happened, but anything at all... Well I'm here for you. Just call. Ok?”  
  
Eleven doesn't respond, just starts rocking himself. She sighs softly, hating that her friend is so unhappy, but is unable to do anything about it. She reaches out as if to touch him, a simple gesture she often did when they used to work together. Eleven shies backwards violently, though, and she quickly pulls her hand back.  
  
“Sorry, sorry. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to...” Feeling awkward, she scurries away, leaving Eleven standing in the hallway outside his apartment, panting and heart pounding. He fumbles with his key and quickly lets himself inside. This is his home. He'll feel better inside, he knows it. He'll finally feel safe.  
  
Eleven goes through the apartment and switches on every light he has. He doesn't plan on turning them off again. Ever. He steps into the bathroom and turns on the shower, wanting to bathe and wash the hospital smell off of him. The small enclosed space of the bathroom makes him feel nervous, so he keeps the door open. He doesn't want to feel cooped up in one room. That's fine, that's reasonable. No big deal. But he pauses when he needs to take his clothes off. He doesn't want to be naked. Not even here, in his own bathroom. No, this isn't right. He is supposed to feel better here. This is what he had wanted. He wasn't supposed to bring this fear with him. There is no “old” and “new” Eleven. Right? He's still the same person he's always been. So why can't he take a shower?  
  
With the hot water still running, Eleven collapses onto the floor of his bathroom. The largest panic attack he's ever experienced consumes him, making it impossible to breathe as his heart pounds and his body seizes. He paws mindlessly at the floor, splintering his nails as he tries to find something to grab, something to hold onto. Oh, God. Oh, God. Nothing is right. Nothing is ok. Nothing is ever going to be ok again. Eleven wishes he had died in the studio; at least then he could die with the illusion that everything would be alright some day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't decide if letting Eleven live was actually worse than killing him. So I made two endings, neither of which are exactly “happy” for poor Eleven. If I had to pick between them, I think the ending where Bendy kills Eleven is much more in-character and more likely to happen. Let me know which you prefer in the comments; I'm really curious! 
> 
> As a side note, the likelihood of Bendy actually getting away with this is next to none. Of course people would immediately figure out where Agent Eleven vanished to, no matter what Bendy did to cover his tracks. But, hey, that's why this is an AU. I don't have to come up with a plausible reason for anything. 
> 
> I'm going back to work on the main story soon. But things are kinda awkward between me and Agent Eleven now..... Sorry, man. I didn't mean it. D=


	3. Part 2: Henry Gets Involved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be a short story in which Agent Eleven has horrible things happen to him. Then this happened: https://imgur.com/kxP8nFu  
> I take no responsibility for this. Don't give me that look. Peer pressure is real. 
> 
> So this "Part Two" is following the "alternate ending" of the last chapter where Eleven survives his abuser. 
> 
> If I have to shove this in the main story's timeline somewhere, I'd say Eleven was kidnapped before they all left for Bendy's movie. So maybe sometime during the “Slice of Life” chapter. Though in this AU they seem to spend a lot more time in the studio.
> 
> Edited to add: In the main story line, Bendy broke Henry's arm pretty badly. That's why it's goofed up here.

After Eleven's disappearance, no one was more concerned than Henry Stein. The two had become friends while dealing with the ink creatures. Henry knows Eleven would never vanish on his own; something terrible must have happened to him. Of course, he helped when he could, including speaking to Bendy to make absolute sure the demon had nothing to do with it. But ultimately, the most important job he has is to continue his current job of keeping the ink monsters under control. It's what Eleven would want him to do, Henry reasons. And it's not like one man can do anything the entire FBI can't.

When the missing agent is found in the back of a potato hauler several states away, Henry is greatly relieved that Eleven is alive. But he hears through the grapevine that Eleven's not doing so well, and decides to give him some space instead of rushing to see him. After whatever horrible experience left the man so emaciated and upset, Henry figures he could use a bit of downtime before dealing with a well meaning friend. After Eleven has had a week of rest back at his apartment, though, Henry can't wait any longer. He contacts Eleven, who grudgingly agrees to let him come visit. 

Henry warns the complaining Bendy that he will be gone for a while, leaves careful instructions to Eleven's replacement, and takes a flight east. Henry is worried about his friend, of course, but figures Eleven will bounce back from this and will be back at work soon. Anyone who can manage literal monsters can take anything a mere human can dish out, and probably left some marks of his own on his aggressor. 

When Eleven opens the door, Henry is careful to mask his expression. Eleven's face is gaunt, and he looks like he's aged years in the past few months. Eleven looks past Henry's shoulder instead of meeting his eyes. He's wearing a mish-mash of many layers of clothing topped with a robe. His hair is rumpled and badly cut short, like he butchered it himself with a pair of scissors. Henry had expected a more or less familiar Eleven, though maybe tired or reserved. Not this almost unrecognizable creature. 

Henry knows the agent was sexually assaulted, and so he does not hug, shake his hand, or reach for him at all. Instead he greets the man like nothing has happened. Eleven nods his own greeting and retreats back into the apartment. Unexpectedly, the place is a bit of a mess. Nothing is put away, trash stinks in the can, and dishes pile in the sink. Bizarrely, an unusual number of mismatched lamps are wedged into most corners, all of them plugged in and turned on. Eleven pads on slippered feet to his couch and balls up against an arm rest. The television is on, but an infomercial that he's obviously not paying attention to is running. 

Henry quietly glances around, still holding his duffel bag one-handed. His arm is out of the sling now, but is still very weak. He can't bend his elbow past a 90 degree angle, and he can't carry more than 5 or so pounds with that arm. He's supposed to be going to physical therapy, but some things are more important than a wrecked arm. Like his obviously distraught friend who needs a hand getting back on his feet. When Eleven continues to ignore him, staring off into the corner of the room, Henry drops his bag on the floor near the couch.

“Have you eaten?” Henry asks. Eleven shakes his head slightly. Henry goes into the kitchen to see what he can do about that. The pantry, however, is bare. The refrigerator only has half a thing of ketchup and a mostly empty jar of pickles. Eleven doesn't keep much food here because he's gone most of the time, and he hasn't felt up to grocery shopping. During his week spent here alone, he's already eaten what there is to eat. 

Henry sighs and sticks his head back into the living room. “I'm going to go grab a few things from the store. Did you want anything? I'm cooking.”

Eleven gazes at Henry's feet and says nothing, so the man shrugs and heads back out. 

Henry spends his evening cooking a simple spaghetti meal, which Eleven picks halfheartedly at. Then he goes around picking up and cleaning Eleven's apartment. Henry knows Eleven is a very clean person, and hopes he will feel better once he's in a habitat more natural for him. 

Eleven spends his evening staring at the television without actually watching it and occasionally tracking Henry as he moves around. He does not offer to help or say a thank you. Henry doesn't mind; he's happy to help in whatever way he can. After Henry takes a much needed shower, he finds Eleven curled up and asleep on the couch. Henry pauses. This is a one bedroom apartment, and obviously, he doesn't want to take Eleven's bed. He figured he would get the couch. Henry goes around the room, turning off most of the lights. Then, with a resigned sigh, Henry settles on the recliner. It's ok, he can make due. He falls asleep thinking about ways to bring Eleven out of his shell tomorrow. 

Henry squints awake when a light turns on almost in his eyes. He sits up to see Eleven scurrying around, frantically turning on every single lamp. He also checks that the windows are closed and the door is locked. At first, Henry is annoyed at being woken up. Then he notices the stressed, fearful look on Eleven's face. He's not just acting obsessive, he looks terrified. Henry stands and blocks Eleven on his way to check the window latches yet again. 

“Hey, I'm sorry I turned the lights off. I didn't know. Can I get you something? Maybe a glass of water?” 

Eleven pauses, shifting his weight anxiously from side to side, but does not answer. “Maybe you just want to go to bed?” 

When the stressed man still does not answer, Henry very slowly reaches out and grabs him by the sleeve of his robe, being careful not to touch him, and leads him to his room. He had made the bed earlier, and now turns down the covers for Eleven and stands back. Eleven hesitates, glances at Henry, then lies down. Satisfied, Henry turns to leave the room. 

“Henry.” It's the first thing he's heard the agent say since their brief phone conversation. 

Henry turns at the doorway. “Yes?”

“Where... Where are you going?”

“Back to the recliner, I imagine.” 

Eleven clears this throat and looks away, an uncomfortable expression on his face. 

“Unless you'd prefer I stay here,” Henry guesses. 

Still acting uncomfortable, Eleven nods. With no questions asked, Henry goes to the other side of the bed and settles down, pulling the sheet up over his face to attempt to block out the light. 

The next morning Eleven is a little more relaxed and social, though he still doesn't eat much. Henry figures that Eleven staying locked in his apartment, alone with only his memories, is not healthy. Henry offers to even up his hair a little, and Eleven agrees. Henry grabs a comb and a pair of scissors and gets to work, doing his best to salvage what he can. Eleven flinches slightly the first time Henry's fingers brush him, but settles quickly. After a few minutes close enough to get a whiff of the agent, Henry has to ask something else. 

“Hey, uh, Eleven.”

“Hm.”

“When's the last time you showered, buddy?”

Eleven coughs and shifts in his chair. “That bad?”

“Pretty ripe.” 

“I, um. Don't like taking my clothes off.”

Henry's not sure how to respond to that. He spends a few minutes combing and clipping hair. “If there's anything I can do to help, to make you feel better, just let me know. I can guard the door or whatever. I don't mind, just tell me.” 

Eleven is silent a moment. “Why are you helping me? You have better things to do. You should be with your family.” 

Henry snorts. “You forget, my family won't have me. Apparently I'm too self sacrificing. And I want to help. You're strong, Eleven. You just need a little reassurance and you'll be ok.”

Eleven wipes at his eyes, and Henry pretends it's because loose hair is tickling his face. Henry's done what he can for Eleven's hair, and he pauses a moment to carefully pat the top of his head, wanting to comfort without disturbing him. 

“Come on. Go take a shower and I can run a load of laundry for you.” 

“N-no, Henry. I can't. I tried, and um. It hurt.”

“It hurt?” Henry asks, not understanding.

“I couldn't breathe.” 

“Oh. Well I'm here to help, now. And, what, are you just never going to bathe again?”

Eleven wraps his arms around himself and starts rocking back and forth. 

“Hey, easy, there. It's ok, you're safe now,” Henry tries.

Of course, bland words that are supposed to soothe just make Eleven more nervous. Bendy always said such things before hurting him. And here's Henry, saying these things while trying to get him to do something he doesn't want to do. Like creature, like creator. Eleven knows it's not a fair thought. Henry's just trying to help. But it's hard to think fairly when he's this scared. The sad thing is that Eleven would really like to shower. He feels gross. So when Henry takes him by his sleeve and tries to gently pull him to his feet, Eleven follows obediently. 

Henry starts the hot water while Eleven stands there awkwardly, staring down at the floor where he had such a severe panic attack. Just thinking of that moment stresses him, when he was so scared and all alone, with no one to notice or care if he ever managed to breathe again. “I can't,” Eleven says helplessly. 

“Look, I'll take your robe off. Ok?” Henry eases the robe off his shoulders. “And hang it right here, on the door. Ready for when you get out. See? You're ok. Now you do the rest and I'll be right outside, making sure no one gets through. No one's going to hurt you. I promise.” 

Henry leaves. Eleven stands stock still and does not move. A few minutes later Henry calls down the hall to him. When Eleven doesn't reply, Henry reappears at the doorway, looking concerned. 

“Am I pushing too hard? Do you just not want to do this?”

“N-no, I need to shower. But, um. I can't.” 

Henry chews his lip in thought. He's not sure what to do at this point. 

“Henry?”

“Hm?”

“I trust you.”

“I'm glad.”

“Can you do it?”

“Do what?”

Eleven gestures at himself.

“Oh. Um. Well... I guess I could. Are you really ok with that?” Henry checks.

“I can't do it. You have to. Just this once. I'm sorry, I'm probably asking too much of you...” 

“No, no, it's fine. I raised two girls, you aren't the first reluctant person I've stripped for a bath. Just do me a favor and let me know if you want me to stop.” Deciding not to give Eleven too much time to think about what's happening, Henry grabs the many layers of shirts and quickly peels them all off at once. Eleven gasps and shivers, quickly wrapping his arms back around himself. 

Henry, once again, keeps his expression neutral. Hidden under the layers, Eleven is nothing but skin and bones and scar tissue. I need to feed him more, Henry thinks to himself. The long, deep scars down his back and ribs are particularly concerning. Still fresh and angry looking, they hurt Henry just to look at. They seem oddly familiar, though in the moment Henry can't figure out where he's seen something like that before. 

Not wanting to drag this out and upset Eleven any more than needed, Henry grabs Eleven's wrist and puts it on his own shoulder to brace him, then quickly tugs down his two layers of sweat pants and boxers. Eleven cooperates, stepping out of them and directly into the shower. Satisfied, Henry quickly leaves, scooping up the stinky discarded clothing as he goes to wash them. A moment later he quietly sneaks clean clothing onto the bathroom counter so Eleven won't have to be naked for long. 

After that mildly traumatic episode, a much cleaner and more comfortable Eleven takes a short nap on the couch. Cleaned up, with his hair fixed, and no longer wearing five layers of clothing like some strange hermit, Eleven starts to look closer to his normal self. Later that day Henry tempts him into a game or two of chess. Eleven eats a larger amount of food that evening, and they end the day by watching some generic action movie until they fall asleep on the couch and recliner, both feeling better about the whole situation. 

Henry wakes up some hours later, his internal clock confused by the constant lighting. He stands up to stretch his back, glancing at Eleven and seeing him still sound asleep. The clock tells him it's just after 5 in the morning. He grabs the remote and starts flipping through the channels, looking for something more appealing than the infomercial running. Henry smirks when he finds some re-runs of the Bendy cartoons. He doesn't go out of his way to watch the old show, but it's a guilty pleasure to watch whenever he stumbles across it. Henry settles back down, tossing his good arm across his eyes, trying to get a few more hours of sleep. A few minutes of quiet pass, with Sammy Lawrence's tunes playing softly in the background. 

Then a piercing shriek reverberates around the small apartment, followed by a dull thump. Henry jolts up in surprise and looks over to see Eleven trying, and mostly failing, to army crawl away. The remote control still in his hand, Henry reflexively turns off the TV before tossing it down and hurrying over to Eleven. He drops to his knees, hands hovering over the wildly panicking man. 

“Eleven! Eleven, what's wrong?”

He's not breathing. He lies stiffly on the floor, eyes wild and rolling, and he's not breathing. 

“Can I touch you? Eleven? Can I – I'm going to touch you, ok?” Henry scoops him up into his arms, holding him tightly. Eleven convulses a few more times, then faints from lack of oxygen. Passed out, his body's instincts take over and he starts to breathe again. Eleven wakes a moment later and immediately starts to panic again. 

“Easy, there. Breathe. You just fainted. I want you to focus on breathing. I've got you, ok? All you have to do is breathe. In and out. Slower, breathe slower. In... And out. There you go, nice and deep.”

Henry's coaching is much more helpful than mindless words of comfort. “I-i-is B-b-endy here?” Eleven manages to squeak out.

“What? No, Bendy's not here.”

“I s-s-aw him...”

“The cartoon was on TV.”

“H-he's not h-here?”

“Bendy is back at the studio.” A pause. “Why are you scared of Bendy?” 

“He's not here,” Eleven whispers, clutching his chest. 

This is all quite odd. In any case, Henry doesn't want to stay huddled on the floor. “Come on, let's stand up now. You have to help me, I can't pull you up with this arm.”

They manage to get to their feet, and Henry leads his friend to his bedroom. Henry tucks him in and goes to the other side to lie down. To Henry's amazement, Eleven wiggles over and presses against Henry with a whimper. Henry accommodates him, wrapping his arms around the shivering man and petting his hair. 

Something is off. That was quite a panic attack, and it seems the Bendy cartoon triggered it. Then Eleven rambling on about the demon, wanting to know where he is... Henry's hand moves down to pat Eleven's back, and the scars stick out in his mind. He's seen wounds like that before, but not on a human. They were on Sammy, shortly after mating with Bendy. Long, deep wounds dripping ink. 

It doesn't add up. Henry could discount the wounds as a coincidence. Paring them with Eleven's fear of Bendy... Henry tightens his hold on Eleven as things start to click into place. Like how the well trained Agent Eleven could be overpowered in the first place. And why someone would do such a thing; it makes much more sense if it's not a random act of violence from a stranger. And wasn't he on his way to check the studio when he vanished? No. It's too horrible to even consider. Bendy would never do such a thing. He knows Eleven, even if they're not friends. And it would be too risky. Bendy has everything to lose if he's caught. But Henry has to know. He has to ask, or he'll never be able to sleep again from doubt and worry.

“Eleven?”

“Mm.”

“Was it Bendy?”

Eleven stiffens in his arms. “N-no.”

“...Are you sure?”

Eleven starts to cry. Big, gasping sobs rip from the tormented man as his body twists from the intensity of it. Henry cradles the back of Eleven's head against his chest and holds him tightly. 

As Eleven cries, Henry stares silently at the wall. He feels numb. Henry loves Bendy, and sees the good in the creature. Bendy's had a tough start in life, and Henry had hoped that some love and guidance would help the demon move past it and have a productive and happy life. He knew Bendy still has that wickedness in his heart. But to so horribly and deeply hurt Eleven, a person Bendy knows well and whom Henry cares about... It's horrifying. And while before Henry was not interested in hearing the gritty details of what happened to Eleven, suddenly he has a powerful need to know it all. Already scrambling for excuses, Henry wonders if there's some reason for what Bendy did, or if maybe it wasn't as bad as he assumes it was. 

No, Henry quickly pushes those thoughts aside. This time Bendy has gone too far. There is no excuse. Eleven has obviously been through something traumatic, something more than getting knocked around or even simply raped, as horrible enough as that would be. Whatever Bendy did made the bravest person Henry's ever known afraid of the dark, afraid of undressing, afraid of human touch, and afraid of leaving his door unlocked. Eleven is a trembling shadow of who he used to be.

All Henry can do is rock the hiccuping man back and forth slowly, thinking about those scars. Thinking about what it would be like to be alone in the dark, slowly starving to death and waiting for the next round of abuse. For months. Henry squeezes his eyes shut as his own tears threaten him. How, how, how could Bendy do this to someone? Henry's heart breaks. 

Although Henry feels like his world has ended, the sun still rises. Still, the two don't move. Eleven is exhausted from his panic attack and tears. And Henry is heart broken and depressed. He thinks of Bendy as his own son. He created him, after all. Drew his cartoon form, gave him those sweet pie cut eyes and playful nature. Bendy chooses to look different now, embracing the whole “devil” thing with cloven hooves and a spade tipped tail. But all children grow up and look different. Oh, God, why wasn't he there to protect Bendy when he was young? He should have been there to take care of him, to raise him right. So much horror would never have happened. So many lives could have been saved, including Sammy Lawrence's and Agent Eleven's. 

As much as Henry loves Bendy, it's time to give up on him. The demon was given many chances, and was told very clearly what would happen if he did not behave. Henry cries silently, not wanting to upset Eleven. He will have to help Eleven and tell people what happened to him. And Bendy will have to be locked up in that tiny cell or killed. Honestly, killing the creature would probably be the more humane option for everyone. Perhaps Sammy would be better off dead, as well. What will the misguided music director do without his god? But, thankfully, that's not Henry's choice to make. All he will do is inform the FBI of Bendy's transgression. Even though the little devil will never be happy again. He did it to himself, Henry reminds himself. That doesn't help the agonizing pain he feels. It's the exact same pain he would feel if his oldest daughter did something that landed her on death row. Except Henry himself is the one flipping the switch on Bendy. And even though he doesn't really have a choice, he can't help but to feel guilty. 

The world may feel like it's over, but they simply must keep living. Eventually Henry gets up and makes a simple, late breakfast. Eleven eats all of his oatmeal this time around, and Henry realizes that keeping such a big and terrible secret probably had a very bad effect on the man. Maybe now that the secret's out, Eleven will start to heal. Henry still burns for answers, but he keeps quiet, not wanting to ruin breakfast. It's not until later, when they start a new game of chess, that Henry starts testing the waters a little. 

“So, um. Were you... kept... that whole time?”

Eleven shifts uncomfortably. “Yes.”

“I'm sorry. I don't mean to pry. It's just... I'm having trouble wrapping my mind around Bendy doing this.” 

“Yeah, well. He did.”

“I'm not doubting you,” Henry quickly clarifies. “It just... Seems a little extreme, even for him.”

“I saw him tearing someone apart. He didn't want me to talk.”

“Then... Why did he let you go?”

Eleven sighs, rolling a pawn between his fingers. “I'm not completely sure, but I think he got a little attached to me. He liked... Having someone. And he said it would be fun to imagine my suffering.” 

“I am so sorry.”

“I don't want your pity.”

“That's not what I meant. I... feel responsible. I advocated for giving Bendy another chance. And look what happened.”

“You see the good in everyone. That's a good thing. I don't blame you for this. Bendy did it, not you.” 

Throughout the day Eleven keeps seeking physical contact with Henry, often brushing against him or nudging his arm for attention. Henry provides, offering hugs and pats, figuring that Eleven needs a little reassurance. What Henry can't figure out is the abused man's habit of asking of him if he going to fuck him every time he's touched. Of course, Henry turns him down each time, but Eleven keeps asking. Henry finds the behavior truly baffling. Does Eleven want sex? Or is he scared that Henry will take his need for physical contact sexually? 

When Eleven takes a nap on the couch, hands curls under his chin and his brow furrowed in sleep, Henry watches with his broken heart. Even though the two are similar in age, something about the helpless creature triggers Henry's protective paternal instinct. No matter what ends up happening with Bendy, all he wants is for Eleven's life to return to some level of normalcy. Even if the man can never go back to work, or never have a healthy sexual relationship again. All Henry wants is for him to be able to spend the rest of his life feeling somewhat content and safe. He sadly wonders if that's too much to ask of this cruel world. But he figures Eleven's best bet at that is by going after Bendy. In some ways, he's trying to exchange Bendy's happiness for Eleven's. But Eleven is the victim, and Bendy is the dangerous, heartless predator who will go on to hurt other people if he isn't stopped. Henry just has to find the right time to talk to Eleven about it. 

That evening they sit with Eleven's shoulder pressed against Henry's. Henry is distracted, as he's been all day, lost in his thoughts. 

“Henry.”

“Hm?”

“Are you going to fuck me?”

Henry blinks at Eleven, still bemused by the repeated question. “No.”

“Am I too gross?”

“What? No. I, um. Prefer women.” And people who aren't so sexually abused that they have trouble sorting between friendly touch and sex, Henry mentally adds. 

“But I can't really do anything else to repay you. It's all I'm good for.”

“I'm not looking to be repaid for anything. I'm here as a friend. And that's not true. You just feel that way right now.” 

“So... You're not going to fuck me?”

“I'm happy to give you attention as a friend. But I don't want any sexual contact. You don't have to keep asking that.”

Eleven tilts his head, looking a bit confused. Henry feels sad. The friend he knew would never have such jumbled thoughts and confused logic. 

“But there is something you can do for me,” Henry adds.

“Oh?”

“Come with me back to the FBI house. They need to know what happened.”

“I, uh. Would rather not. You can tell them, and I'll stay here.”

“It would mean more coming from you.”

“I don't want to press charges or go to court or do any of that mess.”

“Bendy's not a human. If you go talk to the FBI, I'm fairly sure he won't get a day in court. Especially not with his violent history.”

“You're ok with me getting Bendy in trouble?”

Henry sighs. “I've thought about it all day. And I've decided that, yes, I do still love Bendy. No matter what he does, I will always care about him. But I can't let this one go. If he's capable of doing this to you, he'd do it to anyone. And he will do it again, it's only a matter of time.”

“I don't want to see him again.”

“You won't have to speak to or get near Bendy. Just the FBI. I think telling others may help you feel better, too. You'll feel safer if you know Bendy is locked up.” 

Eleven picks quietly at a suspicious scar circling his wrist. “Maybe. I'll think about it.” 

Henry decides not to push him any more. Instead, he pats the man on the arm. 

“Are you going to fuck me?”

Henry sighs. 

 

A few days later the pair find themselves back in the Midwest. Eleven seems less panicky these days, but still can't be in the dark. On the drive to the FBI house, Henry makes a decision. He drives past it and heads for the studio. Eleven doesn't notice at first, but gets nervous when they pull up into the overgrown parking lot. 

“Wait, why are we here? You said we were going to the house.”

“I just... I need to talk to Bendy. Only for a minute. I have to look into his eyes, if only for my own closure. Stay here, I won't be long.” 

Henry steps out of the car and slips inside the large building. Eleven cowers in the car, chewing on his thumbnail. He knows the danger of going inside that place with no one at their back. It's so easy for someone to disappear. And while Eleven's not totally sure what Henry plans on saying to the demon, he's sure Bendy's not going to be happy. 

Eleven wrings his hands together. He doesn't want to go inside. Oh, God, he doesn't want to go inside. But what if something happens to Henry? Henry, who took such good care of him when no one else would. Loving, gentle, patient, caring Henry, who deserves only good things in his life, but who would make such an easy and trusting victim to the devil. Henry probably believes that Bendy would never hurt him. And isn't that the same trap Eleven fell for? Already shaking and feeling a weakness in his bladder, Eleven gets out of the car and, shoulders hunched, shuffles quickly for the door of the studio. 

Once inside the door, he stops, frozen in terror. What is he doing? He shouldn't be here. He needs to leave. But Henry... He swallows and forces himself forwards. He's learned from his mistakes. He knows not to trust the demon. And there's two of them, now. And maybe Bendy is less likely to hurt Henry – but, no, that's a foolish thought. A dangerous thought. He staggers onwards, too scared to form a real plan beyond find Henry and get them both out of here. 

Henry's already deep within the studio. Eleven slips down the stairs to the music department, mouth dry and heart pounding, flinching at every creak of the stairs. He rounds the corner and finds Henry standing with Bendy and Sammy in front of the mural of the music department. Bendy has his fists clenched and his tail is popping dangerously as tiny spines prickle from his shoulders and along his back. At the sight of the demon, Eleven's stomach lurches, and he stumbles a bit as he gags and wretches.

Bendy starts laughing, but it's not his normal carefree sound. It's almost strained. “Did you really bring him here?” 

“Eleven, oh my God, what are you doing here?” Henry rushes forward and grabs the vomiting man by the shoulder. “You should be in the car.”

“I'm glad he's here, honestly. Saves me the trip up.” 

“What are you talking about?” Henry gruffs, patting the panting Eleven between the shoulders.

“I mean, I want to talk to you two. That's all. C'mon, let's go to the music room and sit down for a minute.” 

Henry's not sure what else there is to say; he's not about to be talked out of going to the FBI. But he's not about to deny Bendy this last request, so he follows Bendy deeper into the studio with Eleven in tow. Instead of bringing them to the roomy music room, Bendy guides them into a small recording booth.

“Please, sit,” Bendy offers courteously. Then he grabs the trailing Sammy by the elbow and drags him away a few feet, mumbling something into his ear. 

Henry is still patting Eleven, who's wiping at his face and trying to catch his breath. “It's alright, Eleven. We're just going to talk a minute, then we'll get out of here, ok? You really didn't have to go after me.” 

“Why did you come here?” the agent gasps softly.

“I just wanted to hear Bendy's side of things. I need to understand.”

“This was a mistake. Can we go now?”

“You can go. I'll only be a minute.”

Eleven sighs. “You're too trusting, Henry...”

Bendy returns to the two and starts pacing back and forth in the small space, hands behind his back. “Before I get interrogated,” the demon starts, “can I ask a couple of questions, myself?”

Henry shrugs. “Sure, I guess so.”

“Good! First of all,” Bendy turns to Eleven. “you fucking told on me, you piece of shit?!”

Eleven flinches and acts like he might just melt into the floor while Henry jumps in, tone very annoyed. “Eleven didn't say anything; in fact, he said you didn't do it. But it's not that hard to figure out, Bendy. You left your damn mating marks all over his back.” 

Bendy sighs. “Are you sure you want to do all this, Henry? I mean, get the FBI involved and all... Can't you just yell at me and ground me for a while or something?” 

“It's not like you broke a vase! I've never seen someone so messed up as Eleven! Oh. Um. No offense, Eleven.” 

Eleven just shrugs. 

“This is a big deal,” Henry continues. “I'm here to look into your eyes and tell you. Now if you want to defend yourself, go ahead, but if not, we need to go.” 

“Oh?” Bendy's tail pops against the floor. “You want me to defend myself?” 

“Just get on with it.”

Bendy grins crookedly and kicks the door to the recording booth closed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This can only end well. Maybe choose your words better, Henry...?


	4. Henry Suffers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kudos, as always, for my friends in the Kink Machine chat. I hope this pleases all y'all sick fucks.

Henry blinks cluelessly up at Bendy while Eleven is busy having a meltdown. “Well? Do you have anything to say for yourself?” Henry asks. 

“Eleven.” Bendy says to the flinching man. “Come here.” Arms wrapped around himself, Eleven slowly stands and shuffles over to Bendy. “On your knees,” the demon commands, and Eleven's knees crack against the floor obediently. 

Henry springs to his feet. “Bendy, what are you doing? Let him go!” 

Bendy grins while petting the top of Eleven's bowed head. “Why did you bring him back here, if not for me to play with?”

“He was supposed to stay in the car. Eleven, come here. You don't have to do what he says.” 

The defeated man does not move from his position on the floor. Bendy chuckles and says “He's very well trained. It took a while to get the fight out of him, but he's a good boy now.” 

Henry lunges forward to grab Eleven and get out of there, but Bendy easily stops him and shoves him back into the chair. 

“Bendy - “ Henry starts in his warning tone. In the past this was enough to get Bendy to stop misbehaving. Henry has no such luck this time. The demon grips Eleven by an ear and gives him a playful shake. Henry stands again and keeps trying. “Bendy. This is not ok. Eleven's not having fun. You need to let him go now.”

“You really don't understand your situation, do you, Henry? See, I have a problem, here. You come stomping into my house, informing me that my life is, basically, over. You dare -” here Bendy stands taller, tail popping threateningly “- when I trusted you. I – I loved you, Henry. And you would do this to me? How? How could you betray me like this?” 

Henry's eyes soften. “I love you, Bendy. I always will. But some lines you don't cross. This was one of them. Please, don't make this worse than it already is. I'll be sure to stand by your side, to make sure you're treated fairly.”

“Oh, wow, Henry. You're a real stand-up guy! Turning me in, yeah, that sucks. But you'll stay by me! Or you could just not tell anyone. Then you won't have to stand anywhere.” 

“You know I think of you like my son. But Eleven is my friend. And you attacked him when he did nothing wrong. Then you tormented him for months! What you did was unbelievably cruel. I would do the same if this happened with my daughter. You say I am betraying you; maybe you betrayed me by acting this way. This breaks my heart, Bendy. You know I only wanted the best for you.” With that, Henry steps forward, arms outstretched, and pulls Bendy into a hug, reaching up with his good arm to pet his horns while nudging Bendy's own hand off Eleven's head. Bendy nuzzles his face down into Henry's shoulder while the man pets the demon and mumbles endearments into his ear. 

“It'll be alright,” Henry lies as he comforts Bendy. “I love you, and it'll be alright.”

Bendy knows better. It won't be alright at all, and Henry must be lying about loving him. In Bendy's mind, Henry can't love him if he's willing to turn him in. Still, he takes the hug, if only to accept Henry's positive attention one last time. He's going to miss these horn pets. No one can do it quite as well as Henry can, not even Sammy. Bendy nudges at Henry's bad left arm, wanting both hands on his horns. 

“I can't bend that one well anymore. I'm afraid you'll have to make due with one handed pets. When you make bad choices, bad things happen.”

Annoyed by the lesson, Bendy pulls back. “I'm done talking.” He opens the door behind him and calls for Sammy, who steps in the cramped recording booth holding a length of rope. 

“Sammy – Oof!” Henry grunts as Sammy shoves him back onto the chair. Henry yelps when his bad arm is twisted back behind the chair and he's tied into place. The rope is pulling his shoulder badly, and Henry gingerly tries to wiggle into a more comfortable position. He needs to get some slack in that arm. 

He's distracted from his discomfort when Sammy steps back and Henry realizes that Bendy is assaulting Eleven. The demon has Eleven by the hair, and is forcing him down onto his cock. Eleven starts gagging and choking, but does not try to pull back. Bendy pumps his hips smoothly, pushing his big dick all the way into the poor man's throat with each thrust. 

“Bendy!” Henry shouts, horrified. “Stop! You've done enough to him. Leave him alone!” 

“Why, Henry,” Bendy pants. “Are you volunteering to take over?”

Henry feels grossed out even by the thought, not because Bendy is male or even a demon, but because Henry thinks of Bendy as his son. “How can you think these things? I'm your father! And how can you force my friend like that? He can't breathe!”

It's true, Eleven is starting to choke, his hands braced on Bendy's hips as thick strands of saliva drip down his chin. Bendy pulls back to let him take a few shuddering breaths, then pushes right back in, his own hands clasping Eleven's head to keep him in place

“Funny thing,” Bendy continues as if he's not forcefully face fucking the man in front of his friend. “I thought of Joey as my dad, too. You remember him, right? Good ole Mr. Drew. He taught me lots of things. Like oral, and how to take a dick.”

Henry flinches backwards in visible shock. “Joey... Did things to you?”

“Of course. Where do you think I learned? The point is – Hhhmmm, Eleven, your mouth is so sweet – The point is, your idea of 'father' might be different from mine.” 

“Oh, Bendy...” Henry's heart hurts for the demon, even as he watches the sexual assault. Henry can't help it. He sympathizes too much with other people's pain. He shakes the emotion away. Bendy's past, no matter how painful, does not give him an excuse to act like a monster now. Especially with Eleven making those awful sounds. 

“Please let him go,” Henry tries again. To his surprise, the demon does, letting Eleven slump back and gasp for breath while coughing and wiping at his mouth. 

“Thank you,” Henry says softly. Maybe now that Bendy has proved his point, he will let them go. “Are you ready to talk now?”

Bendy chuckles. “Aw, Henry. I didn't even get off yet.” The demon slowly pumps his cock. “Are you ready to take a turn?”

“No. I don't want to sleep with my son.”

“Aw, too bad. Guess poor ole Eleven will have to take it. Sorry, Eleven. Your so-called friend is too selfish to help you out, here.” 

Henry flinches. He knows Bendy is just trying to hurt him, to make him feel guilty. And, somehow, it's working. Henry swallows and watches Bendy push the helpless man down onto his back and starts undoing his pants. Eleven still doesn't fight back, but starts shaking and making odd whimpering yelps as he starts to hyperventilate. 

“Please, Bendy,” Henry whispers. “You're better than this.”

“B-b-buh-endy,” Eleven stammers. “D-don't hurt m-me. Please.” 

“Sshh, sshhh,” Bendy pats the sweating man, who starts to panic harder. 

“A-are you g-gonna fuck me-e?” lifting his head to see what Bendy is doing.

“Of course,” Bendy chuckles at the question, having stripped Eleven's pants off. “What else would I do with you?”

Eleven gulps and sets his head back on the floor, squeezing his eyes shut. “I don't want it.”

“Bendy! Stop this!!” Henry starts pulling at the ropes binding him as Bendy continues to ignore his pleas.

“Shh, shh, you're alright,” Bendy continues with his wicked grin, lifting Eleven's legs at the knees, folding his legs up, and settling against the man. 

“Bendy. I mean it. Stop!” Henry keeps trying. 

“Sammy, shut up Henry, would you?” 

Sammy, who has been watching quietly from the corner of the room, steps behind Henry and clasps his hands over his mouth. Henry growls in frustration and tries to shake the hands off, but Sammy is much stronger. His only choices are to watch or to shut his eyes and just listen. Though Henry tries to screw his eyes shut, he can't keep them that way. Much like watching a car accident, he can't seem to turn away. 

Bendy's got his hand down between Eleven's legs, purring happily. “I see you healed up nicely. Tightened back up. Put a little weight back on, too.” Bendy pushes the agent's shirt up to rub his palms over his too-thin body. He pulls ink from his mouth and the hand drops again between the man's legs. At the feel of ink on his skin, Eleven stiffens and stops breathing. 

“Since this is a reunion and all, let's spice things up a little.” Bendy's cock bristles with short but stiff barbs. He runs his hand over it to make sure it's neither too harsh nor gentle, then nudges it against Eleven's hole with a hum. Eleven mewls pathetically, his voice weak from lack of air, when Bendy forces his way inside. He gasps in a breath and starts to howl in pain as the barbs scrape against the fragile flesh of his insides. He arches his back and reflexively tries to kick away, but only gets his head wedged against the wall of the recording booth, forcing his neck to the side. 

Bendy grunts as he works his hips hard, smacking his body wetly against his slave's. One hand is against the floor to hold himself up, while the other keeps Eleven in line. Every push shoves Eleven's head more firmly against the wall. Henry renews his struggle, but only briefly. Sammy has him too tightly, and pulling against his arm is agony. He growls against the fingers across his mouth, but is horribly helpless to do anything to rescue his friend. 

Eleven's pathetic cries die down to a dismal moaning, punctuated now and then by yelps. Bendy lowers his head and sinks his teeth into the man's upper arm, drawing blood with his fangs that he then laps at. After a few minutes of this torture, Bendy sits up and pulls out, letting Eleven's legs down. The FBI agent wiggles away from the wall, getting so he can lie with his neck straight again. He pants and shivers, curling up and hugging himself in feeble defense. 

“So, Henry. Are you ready to take over yet? Take some of the burden off of poor little Eleven?”

Sammy takes his hands off Henry's face. “I don't want you to keep hurting him. But I can't consent to having sex with you. I don't know why you would even want such a thing, Bendy.” 

Bendy tsks. “Aw. Here I was hoping I could guilt you into agreeing to it. You're no fun.” Bendy hooks Eleven in his claws and flips him over. “Hands and knees,” the demon instructs him. Eleven cooperates, getting into position, though he keeps making soft complaining sounds. “Last chance, Henry!” he calls over his shoulder, though he does not expect for Henry to say anything. 

“...Bendy,” is the only thing Henry says. 

The demon pushes back inside and continues his rutting, though a little awkwardly, as his goat legs don't bend quite the right way for the position. He pushes up Eleven's shirt and rubs his palms over the red, raised scars along the man's back and ribs. 

“Heh. I forget how bad... you humans are at healing. You'll... have something from me left here... for the rest of your life.” Bendy is starting to lose his breath as he gets closer. 

Eleven flinches from Bendy's touch as his eyes roll backwards, trying to see if Bendy intends on scratching him again. The demon growls and starts to open mouth pant, drool dripping onto the man's back as he goes faster and gets closer. A minute later Bendy finishes, digging his claws into the man's hips and tipping his head back with a groan. 

They stay like that a moment, then Bendy pulls out sharply, making Eleven yelp one last time. Bendy sits back on his haunches and pants, tail tapping happily as he recovers. The unfortunate Eleven wiggles away, pressing his back against the nearby wall and drawing his knees up against his chest. He wipes at the tears staining his face, but doesn't make a sound.

With a final sigh, Bendy sets his eyes on Henry, who gazes at the demon sadly. “Will you untie me now?” Henry asks. At Bendy's nod, Sammy reaches back and lets Henry loose. The old animator grimaces and gingerly brings his bad arm in front of him, cradling it carefully. He stands and quickly goes to Eleven, scooping up his discarded pants along the way. Henry starts to fuss over Eleven, tugging his shirt down straight and helping him back into his clothes, mumbling to him the whole time. 

“...I am so sorry... This is all my fault... Shouldn't have come back here... Didn't mean for you to get hurt... We'll go home now...” 

Eleven remains unresponsive throughout, eyes averted and staring at the floor. Once Eleven is clothed again, Henry pulls the man to his feet and makes for the door. Bendy is sitting in front of it, leaning back to keep it shut. 

“Oh? Where do you think you're goin'?” the monster asks lazily. 

“Bendy. Move. We're done here.” 

“Huh. I didn't know we were done. Hey, Sammy, do we look done?”

“No, my lord.”

“I don't think we're done, Henry.”

Henry sighs. “What do you want now?”

“Oh, ya know. The usual. My needs satisfied. My freedom. My supposed dad to not go running to the cops with his freshly raped friend as evidence.” 

“Alright, Bendy. I promise we won't tell anyone. Not the police, not the FBI. This whole thing was my idea, and clearly, it was a dumb idea. Let me just take Eleven back home and make sure he's ok.”

“I don't believe you.” 

“What can I do to change your mind?” Henry asks. 

Bendy taps his chin in thought. “Oh. Probably nothin'.”

“So you're going to kill us? Or keep us here?”

“Aww, I like our little sleepovers. Just ask Eleven! They're real fun.” 

“You almost killed him.”

“Well, it was fun for me, anyway.” The demon climbs to his hooves and glances around the recording booth. “This is a lil small, though. If we're havin' a proper sleepover, we'll need a bigger room. C'mere.” Bendy grabs a human in each hand and starts towing them to a different room. Eleven allows himself to be pulled along with no complaints, while Henry tries to pull free with no luck. 

Bendy brings them to an unfamiliar room, Sammy trailing behind. While not exactly big, it's an improvement to the recording booth. Like most of the studio, it lacks windows. The mostly empty room only has a single cot in it. Bendy deposits the gentlemen into the room, then looks around. 

“Yes, I think this'll do nicely for now. So, Henry.” The demon grins wickedly at the man. “Come here.” He holds a hand out. 

Henry, still trying to tend to Eleven, looks at the demon with doubt. After a moment he lets Eleven go and walks towards Bendy.

“What do you want, Bendy?” 

“To say hi to my dad and creator. What else?” Bendy grabs Henry and pulls him into a too tight hug. “And also to fuck him to an inch of his life.”

“What?!” Henry tries to pull away, but the ink monster is much stronger than him and keeps him close. 

“See, Henry. You betrayed me. And now I want to return the favor. And I learned somethin' bout humans. Nothing horrifies them quite like sex. Not sure why. Sex is a normal function everyone seems to do. But humans get all weird about it. And it feels good to me. So, you know. Win-win.” 

“You didn't like it when Joey forced you, right?”

“Of course not. I don't want to be forced to do anything.” 

“But forced sex is worse. It makes a person feel used and scared and bad.”

“I know.”

“Do you really want to hurt me that badly?”

“Yes.”

There's nothing for Henry to really say to that. Uncertainty spikes in his chest as he wonders if Bendy is serious about doing this. Before Henry really understands what's happening, Bendy has him pushed against the wall, his hands slipping underneath Henry's shirt. 

“Hm. Not as fit as Eleven was. You got a little pudge to ya, Henry-o.” Henry is well aware of the weight around his belly, but most people his age carry a little extra. “No worries, though,” the monster continues. “You're still decent enough for me.”

“I'm glad I fit your rigorous standards,” Henry growls, trying to push Bendy's hands back. 

“Oh, don't get me wrong. It was real nice when I slept on you. Makes ya nice n soft. But I haven't slept WITH someone this fat in a while. I think the last one was a homeless sheep? Gives a nice place to sink the claws into.”

“I'm not THAT fat. Have you seen many 50 year old men...?”

Bendy chuckles. “Aww, look at you. Still willing to banter with me. It's almost like you don't understand what's about to happen.” 

“You're not going to go through with this. You're just trying to scare me.”

“Mm-hm,” Bendy replies, holding Henry in place with one hand while working his belt open with the other. Henry might be well into middle age and with a bum arm, but he has a lot of fight left in him. Time and time again Henry shoves Bendy's hands back, preventing him from getting Henry undressed. Bendy growls, getting frustrated, and calls Sammy over. 

“Get behind him and hold him still. If he gives you too much trouble, twist his left arm.”

Sammy obeys, slipping behind Henry and holding his arms firmly behind him. 

“Don't – don't hurt my arm. Please. It's already really messed up.”

“Hold still, and Sammy won't have to hurt your arm,” Bendy says calmly, like a teacher reasoning with a preschooler. Like this is a perfectly normal conversation to be having. Bendy finishes undoing Henry's pants and lets them fall to the floor. Feeling the cool air of the studio on his thighs and Bendy's hands explore his private areas, Henry suddenly realizes this is actually happening. Tears prick his eyes and fear clenches his heart. 

“Bendy, stop! Please! I'm your father. This isn't right.”

“That's kinda weird, innit? I have two dads, and no mom. Maybe that's why I'm so messed up. You shoulda thoughta that before, Henry.” 

“Joey wasn't a real father to you. Not after what he did to you.”

“At least he was there, Henry. More'n I can say about you.” 

Henry breaks into a sweat as he feels Bendy lift his leg up and grope his ass. Henry has witnessed Bendy's mating habits more than he would ever want. He knows how rough Bendy is, how he likes to make his partners scream and bleed. Sex between Henry and his wife was always gentle and loving, with no pain involved at all. This is not what he's interested in. This is not what he wants. 

Bendy finds Henry's hole and starts playing with it, rubbing it and poking at it. Henry gasps when he feels those sharp claws against his thin, sensitive skin. He tries to twist away, but Sammy has him held firmly. Between the two ink monsters, Henry simply doesn't have anywhere to go. 

“Bendy, no, think about what you're doing. Please, Bendy, please please stop...”

Henry's stomach turns as one of Bendy's thick fingers slips inside him. He's never had anyone up there before, except the occasional doctor. And Bendy's finger is thicker than a normal man's. His skin is dry, and catches painfully on Bendy's probing finger. Bendy explores a little, and Henry gasps when the sharp point of his claw jabs against his innards. 

“Bendy,” Henry whimpers. “That hurts.”

“Mmhm,” is all the monster says. He slips the finger in and out a few times, trying to loosen Henry up a little, but only succeeding in causing more pain. Henry starts to squirm and Sammy responds by twisting his arm just a little. Henry flinches up onto his toes to try to relieve the pressure on his arm, inadvertently pushing his body closer to Bendy's. Bendy hooks an arm around Henry, slipping his hand between the man and Sammy, and starts petting his back.

“Isn't this nice, Henry? So close n intimate. Ya know, I wasn't borne like a human. I've never been inside a parent before. Joey certainly never let me. This'll be nice. A real bonding moment for both of us.”

“This is sick. Why do you think this way?”

Bendy tilts his head at the question, but doesn't bother answering it. Henry already knows the answer. Instead he asks, “Are you going to behave now, or does Sammy have to keep holding you?” 

Henry hisses and tires to push Bendy away with the leg the demon has held up. Bendy pulls his finger out and lets Henry's leg down as he glances around, considering his options. Positions are somewhat limited with an unwilling mate. The cot will probably be the most comfortable, Bendy decides, and hooks Henry with his claws and pulls him towards the bed. Henry stumbles, tripping over his dropped drawers, but has no choice but come along or be dragged. 

“Gosh, Henry, we really should have done this ages ago. Just think about it! All those times I napped on ya, we coulda been havin' fun, too. Course, I still like nappin on ya, too.” Bendy pushes Henry onto the cot belly down. The man attempts to lever himself up with his arms, but is very easily overpowered by the demon. Bendy grabs a fistful of Henry's shirt right between the shoulder blades and kneels behind the man, forcing his legs apart as he does so. 

Henry moans, “Please Bendy, no. Please, don't do this to me. Don't hurt me. Don't hurt your old dad.” Henry can't fight much from this angle, just try to twist and pull himself away. 

“Sammy, grab his shoulders.” 

Henry glances up as the creature pads over and does as he's told, pinning Henry and taking from him any hope of escape. 

“You're not even going to let me fight back?” Henry asks. “You won't take a fight with an old man?”

Bendy chuckles. “I ain't lookin' for a fight. I'm here to fuck, Henry-o. Or should I call you 'daddy' for this?” 

“Don't you dare, you bastard.”

“Aw, have you disowned me? Am I a bastard now? I don't think it works that way, Dad.” 

Bendy never calls him dad. Henry knows he's only doing so now to rub salt into the horror of what's happening. Even so, it hurts. Bendy knows exactly what to say to cause the most pain. After all, giving pain is what he does. 

Bendy pushes Henry's shirt up. Henry stiffens in fear, knowing that his exposed back will only invite trouble from the demon's claws. He tries to worm him hands down to tug his shirt back in place, but can't quite manage it, especially since he is unable to bend one elbow much. He's distracted from his back when he feels Bendy put something warm and wet on his ass, slicking it. 

“No. Oh, no. No, no, no,” Henry just saw this happen to poor Eleven. His protests do nothing, and a moment later Henry feels something large push sharply against him. “Bendy, please. Please, please, please--” Henry cuts himself off with a sharp gasp. Bendy's not quite lined up properly, and isn't pushing directly on Henry's hole. The pain is surprisingly sharp, like he's being stabbed there with a knife instead of a cock. Bendy adjusts slightly and tries again, but Henry is too tight, and the same thing happens a second time. 

“Bendy, stop! That really hurts! You're pushing on the wrong spot.”

“Geeze, Henry, I didn't realize you were the anal expert. You're too small, I can't push anywhere else. Just relax, it'll pop in in a second.”

Popping in sounds painful. Bendy hasn't even really started and it already hurts more than Henry had ever imagined. If just pushing against it feels like this, what will happen when Bendy rips his way inside? 

Sammy adjusts his grip on Henry's shoulders, settling in to watch the show. “My lord, your length always amazes me. I am in awe, basking in your power and magnificence.”

“Oh, Sammy,” Bendy chuckles. “I know you're jealous. Everyone's getting' some but you. Don't worry, you'll get your turn at some point.” 

“Give me that pillow,” Bendy tells Sammy. He takes it, rolls it up, and shoves it under Henry's hips to push his ass out farther. Henry considers resisting, but ends up wiggling into place so Bendy will stop yanking on him with those claws. Bendy grasps Henry's rump, pushing his legs farther apart and adjusting the man to try to open him a little more. The demon tries again, pushing against Henry once more.

“You should feel honored,” Sammy mumbles to Henry. “To be chosen by Bendy is a life changing moment. My lord must care for you greatly; he is being more gentle than he normally is.” 

Bendy hears this remark, of course, and feels annoyed by it. He wants this union to be special, is all. Being one with his father is something he really wants to experience. This is important. Still, Bendy doesn't want his reputation to be ruined. With a final, much harder shove, his cock breaks through and finally pops inside Henry's body, robbing him of his virginity. 

Henry clutches at Sammy's hands and screeches in agony when the head of Bendy's cock forces its way inside. The pain is sharp and ripping, the assault brutal and violent. But Bendy is far from done. Instead of easing in, the monster pushes his considerable length all the way inside, not stopping until he is hilted. Henry screams and his belly spasms as his stomach cramps. His hole feels like it's splitting as it's torn open wider than it's ever been. The reality of the sharp pain of his abused hole, his cramping stomach, and the resulting nausea makes the whole experience much more traumatic than Henry's imagination could ever produce. The man clenches his jaw, baring his teeth in agony and pushing his face into the bed as he tries to deal with what's happening to him. The cruel monster simply licks at the sweat breaking out across Henry's neck and back, purring as the man suffers. 

Bendy does not let Henry recover. He starts pumping his hips sharply and with no mercy. With the first pull back, Henry rears his head up and screams again. Bendy has his barbs out, and every time he draws back, the cruel things bite into Henry's soft, defenseless flesh. Stomach heaving, Henry starts yanking at Sammy's hands, trying desperately to get free. 

“It's too much. Please, Bendy, stop, it hurts too much. Please, I can't take it! Please Bendy, stop stop STOP STOP STOPSTOPSTOP!!” Henry is crying now, with big shameless tears rolling down his face. 

Bendy ignores Henry, no matter how desperate he gets and how hard he cries. 

Agent Eleven, witness to Henry's attack, stumbles backwards until his back is firmly against a wall, then slides down it, trying to make himself small and unnoticeable. He's already in pain from his turn with Bendy; the last thing he wants to do is attract attention. Shivering on the floor, he presses his palms to his ears and wars with himself. Henry's screams are very upsetting. Eleven knows exactly what his friend is going through. He knows the agony and helplessness of it, how time seems to slow and it never seems to end. Eleven knows he should be doing something to help Henry. Anything at all. But what could be possibly do against two ink monsters? His eyes flick to the door, but it's wedged shut with the all too familiar ink. Maybe he should check for another way out, try to go get help. But fear and learned helplessness keep him exactly where he is. He doesn't try to fight for Henry, and he doesn't look for an escape. He squeezes his eyes shut and listens to his friend's rape while he curls himself up as small as he can and hopes no one notices him. 

After a few minutes, long after Henry's hoarse voice fades into miserable moans and yelps, Bendy pauses to take a breather. 

“There we go,” the demon purrs, nibbling at Henry's ear and taking one of Henry's hands in his own. “Deep inside. How does it feel to finally bare your child, Henry?” Bendy lets go of the hand and sets his claws into Henry's ribs, puncturing skin. 

“Bendy,” Henry gasps. “Don't scratch me. I can't take anymore. This is bad enough.” 

“Aw, but without matin' marks, how else will I claim you as mine? You n Eleven can have matchin' scars. And Sammy, I guess, but his go away in an hour.” 

Sammy bites the inside of his cheek hard enough to draw ink. Sammy doesn't scar, no, but Bendy can scratch him as often as he wants. Not like these weak humans who take ages to heal. Sammy's grip tightens on Henry's shoulders. Sharing Bendy with Eleven all those months was bad enough. Now there are two humans here. This isn't like the old sheep ritual, where the human dies soon after the beginning of the ritual and Sammy gets a turn afterwards. This is troublesome. But Sammy knows he can't say anything. Bendy does exactly what he wants, and there's nothing Sammy can do about it. 

“Don't scratch... don't scratch... please...” Henry whimpers. 

Bendy chuckles and starts to draw the claws of both hands down, digging deep into Henry's flesh. Six lines swell with blood, which soon overflows and starts to trickle down. Henry stiffens, feeling the pressure on his skin but not registering what Bendy just did. It's not until the demon starts to lap at the wounds do they start to burn. 

Henry writhes underneath Bendy, gasping and yelping as the tongue roughly works the wounds and turns them raw. Bendy starts humping again, growling softly as he loses himself in pleasure and blood. Henry is tight and warm around him, the close walls tugging his barbs perfectly. He raises one paw and gives Henry one last pull, digging four more lines right down the center of the unfortunate man's back. Now completely spent, Henry can only manage a moan. There's so much happening to him that it's hard to tell one pain from the next. He goes limp under the demon, giving up his struggle and just sobbing. Bendy purrs as he licks up blood, sweat, and even the tears from Henry's face, pausing to nibble him lightly from time to time. 

To Henry, the agony feels never ending. And any time he feels he absolutely can't take anymore pain, Bendy scrapes his fangs against him, or changes the angle so his dick somehow pushes deeper, or goes even faster than before.  
Finally, finally, Bendy stills, arching his back and cranking his tail as he releases with a moaning snarl. Panting hard, he lets drool drip from his teeth and onto Henry's ruined back. He dips his long, tapered tongue down and gives Henry a final appreciative lick. 

“Now you have a part of me inside you,” Bendy purrs, “and engraved on your back. Everywhere you go, for the rest of your life. Mine.”  
Henry does not respond. He doesn't like what Bendy is saying, but knows it's at least partially true. Henry will never be the same again, and it's because of Bendy. He somehow manages to give one last pained shout with his broken voice when Bendy rips out again. 

“I know, creator. Separation is painful. But don't worry. I'll be inside you again soon.”


	5. Everyone Suffers, Except Bendy

Henry sits against the wall. Eleven lies with his head in Henry's lap. The two gaze at the cot, where Bendy and Sammy sleep. The two are wrapped around each other, as they tend to do. Henry used to find the habit endearing, but now he only feels deep sadness. Bendy has someone who is willing to have kinky sex with him. It's not like the demon is satisfying some dark, desperate need. He can have Sammy any time, and in any way, that he wants. 

Bendy's tail slowly swipes back and forth, like it always does, even in his sleep. Henry stares at it, almost hypnotized in his brain fog. 

“Don't go after the tail,” Eleven says, his voice a quiet and dull monotone. “I went after the tail. It didn't end well for me.”

“No, I imagine it wouldn't... You'd have to really hurt it. Maybe. Maybe cut it off...” Henry's soft heart flinches even at the thought of such a thing. Bendy's horns and tail are very sensitive. Even after all he's been through, the very thought of hurting Bendy that badly is hard on Henry. 

“We don't have anything sharp,” comes Eleven's dead voice again. 

“No... If we found something blunt and hit him hard enough on the horn... I don't think I could do it, though.”

“Not even to save your life?” Eleven asks. “I'm too weak to hit him hard enough.”

“And I have a bad arm. Also what about Sammy? There are two of them. Even if we hurt Bendy badly enough to slow him down, Sammy would come after us.”

“I don't want to hurt Sammy.”

“He's an idiot, but it's hard to blame him for the things he does,” Henry agrees.

“Still, if it's us or them... They can heal, you know.”

Henry knows. He's trying not to think about the way his shirt is sticking to his stinging, burning back. He's also trying his best not to tug at the shirt. Pulling it away from the deep, open wounds would only cause them to bleed more and probably introduce even more bacteria into them. Still, his entire back is in agony. He shifts carefully against the wall. His ass hurts, too, but he's trying even harder to not think about that. 

To keep his mind and anxiety under control, he slowly pets Eleven's shoulder. Henry does best when he is taking care of others. So even in this pathetic, limited capacity, he tries to comfort the man. 

“So what happens next?” Henry asks. 

“Your stomach will hurt and cramp overnight. Or whatever time it is now. You'll need a bucket or something to push everything out in a few hours. Or sooner, it varies. It will hurt coming out, too. Your back end probably won't have a chance to heal before Bendy is at it again. It will hurt even worse the second time because it's already torn and bruised. But after a few days or a week or whatever you'll get used to being in pain. It won't ever heal, but it... I don't know, it gets easier to ignore. But your back will get infected. There's no avoiding that. You'll get thick, stiff scars, if you're lucky enough to live long enough to heal.”

“That's not exactly what I meant... But thanks for letting me know...” What Eleven just told Henry horrifies him. How was Eleven able to survive this nightmare? “We should look for a way out,” Henry suggests.

“Don't bother. He wedges the door shut with ink. If there are any weak places in the walls, he's filled that with ink, too. It's better to save your energy.” 

“Well. Maybe I can find a loose board or something. Just in case. I don't know, I feel like I need to do something.” Henry eases Eleven's head off his thigh and stiffly stands. His old body screams with pain, and he grunts and staggers a bit, reaching out and grabbing the wall for balance. The movement pulls at his torn back, and moving his legs reminds him of his other pain. That pain he doesn't even want to name. 

Henry starts to shuffle around the room, moving carefully so he won't wake the two monsters or hurt himself anymore than needed. He checks any boards that look rotten. He also tugs at the door. But like Eleven predicted, the room is sealed tightly. Try as he might, he can't find anything that could be used as a weapon, either. He stands near the sleeping pair, tempted to do something. But with nothing but his bare hands, there's not much he can try. The monsters are both much stronger than he is, and like Eleven said, any failed attempt to hurt one would only backfire. With a sigh, he returns to his spot at the wall. 

Eleven gazes up at Henry, flinching slightly at the bright red stripes soaked through his friend's shirt. He knows exactly what Henry is going through. His own ordeal is still fresh in his mind. He knows only luck and Bendy's inclination spared him from having his own freshly bleeding marks on his back. Still, he has his own set of aches and pains, and as Henry settles back down next to him, he puts his head back on his friend's leg. Eleven would like to try to get some sleep before the ink creatures stir again. He knows how important sleep is to healing as quickly as possible. He can tell from the look in Henry's eye that the older man is not about to sleep, and takes advantage of his watchfulness. Eleven manages to fall asleep, trusting Henry to wake him when danger inevitably arrives. 

Henry keeps staring blankly at that waving tail, slowly running his fingers through Eleven's short hair as the man sleeps. He's just having trouble processing and accepting what happened. The massive shift in his and Bendy's relationship is world shattering. He never imagined Bendy would do such a thing. That the demon could be so cruel to someone so close to him. And for what? To save his own skin? Because of some twisted need for revenge? 

Henry's eyes slowly slide shut. He's thirsty and tired and hurt. He's far from comfortable, but there is no way he's about to disturb Eleven for his own comfort. He leans his head back against the wall, and before he's aware it's about to happen, he falls asleep.  
Henry's head is pounding. His eyes are dry and sticky when he opens them. Bendy is standing over him, grin wide as ever, tail wagging with excitement behind him. Henry's hands tighten on Eleven, who wakes up with a jerk and a soft cry. 

“Hiya Henry,” Bendy says. It's similar to countless other greetings Bendy has given him over the months. But his obvious arousal and evil grin give Bendy's greeting a very different tone. “C'm'ere,” the demon says, grabbing Henry by his shoulders and yanking him to his feet. “I want it, Henry. I need it.” 

Bendy pulls Henry to the center of the room. His claws dance around the edge of Henry's wounds, making the man flinch and gasp softly. The demon runs his tongue over Henry's face, tracing around his features and enjoying the taste of his sweat. Henry braces his hands against Bendy and pushes against him. He knows it's hopeless, but he still feels the need to try to keep the purring demon back. He doesn't look down at the creature's aching need. 

“C'mon, Henry. Don't be that way. Touch it.” He grabs one of Henry's wrists and forces his hand down, pressing it against himself. Though forced to make contact with it, Henry clenches his fist and refuses to palm it or touch it with his fingertips. Bendy doesn't seem to mind, and rolls his hips a little to rub himself against Henry's fist. 

“That's nice, but I want more. I want it all,” the creature snarls in the man's face. “Lie down, or I will kick you down.” 

Henry jerks away from Bendy. Desperate to get away, and acting on instinct rather than logic, he runs for the door he knows is unmovable. Bendy responds by snatching Henry, stopping him short with a hard yank backwards. The arm Bendy happens to grab is Henry's bad one, and the man yowls as it's wrenched in a way it's not prepared for. 

“Fuck, Bendy!” Henry gasp, eyes rimmed with tears, as he looks down at his arm. It's bent the wrong way, yet again. “Oh my God. Did you break it again?” 

Bendy looks at the ruined thing a moment in surprise, then starts to laugh loudly. “Wow, Henry, I hardly even touched ya that time. In fact, you mostly did that one yourself. Are you really that easy to break?” 

Henry doesn't respond. He's too busy shivering in agony and trying to cradle his arm in a way that doesn't hurt him even more. The bones in his arm feel like they're made of hot iron pokers, radiating agony throughout his entire body. His stomach clenches and turns, and his legs buckle weakly underneath him. 

“There ya go, Henry. Get on the floor.” Once again, the demon is trying to get him into position.

Henry glances down at the floor behind him, then back at Bendy. “Please...” he tries. The monster can't seriously still want to do this after what he just did to the man.

Bendy shows Henry just how serious he is when he hooks his crooked goat leg behind Henry's knees and shoves him backward, being kind enough to grab his shoulders to help guide and slow his fall. The long, deep scratches on Henry's back hit the wooden floor and he gasps, instinctively arching his back in avoidance. Still clutching his arm, he tries to roll over onto his stomach to crawl away, but Bendy stops him before he can even really attempt it, keeping Henry on his back. Clawed hands are on his pants, trying to get them undone, but through all of Henry's terrible wounds, he still has some fight in him. 

After a few minutes of struggling and flopping around on the ground, Bendy sits up, pinning Henry down by kneeling on his chest, and lets out a growling sigh. 

“Even with your arm barely hanging on and your back in shreds, you're just determined to be difficult, aren't ya? Well I have another little trick to show you...” 

Bendy summons some ink from the nearby wall, and forms it between his paws. He grabs Henry's good wrist and uses the ink to stick it to the floor. Then he grabs Henry's ruined arm and does the same to it. Henry shrieks when his bad arm is manipulated. He swears he can feel the bones grind against each other as he demon mercilessly sticks it where he wants it. To make matters worse, Henry's not quite flexible enough to be flatted out like that comfortably. Pinned like a broken insect on the floor and at the mercy of a heartless monster, Henry cries. 

With the man's hands out of the way, Bendy is able to easily undo his pants and strip them away. 

Henry is in disbelief that Bendy would still be so determined to rape him after hurting him so badly. Still, the man doesn't want to add to his growing list of horribly injuries, so he curls his legs and tries to protect himself that way. But Bendy has an endless supply of ink, and quickly has Henry exactly the way he wants him. Legs bent at the knee and forced to the side, Henry hates how open and vulnerable he is. Completely helpless, he can do nothing to fight off Bendy's unwanted advances. 

The demon kneels between Henry's legs and pumps his inky cock, still purring. “What'd ya think, Henry? Should I make it a lil smaller for ya? Go easy on ya? Or make it a lil bigger, to break you in all properly?”

Henry grits his teeth and doesn't answer through his tears. He won't play this game. Besides, he knows Bendy is going to do what he wants no matter what Henry says. 

“No? No opinion? Well I might as well do what feels good to me, then.” He gives himself a few more pumps as he makes himself a bit bigger, trying to gauge the right size. “You want the spikes back? You seemed to enjoy them so much last time. Yeah, let's put a few little spikes back on there...” 

Satisfied with himself, Bendy reaches down to inspect Henry's hole. “Ooh, you're still all torn open. That looks painful, Henry. Ya know what, let me do somethin' for ya...” The monster wiggles down and buries his face against Henry, long forked tongue flicking out to tease the hurt entrance. 

Even with everything else Henry is suffering through, this slight touch is agony. Henry twists against his bindings, but there is very little wiggle room in them, and he only manages to hurt his arm. He can do nothing but make pathetic sounds as he's licked.  
Bendy chuckles as he works on the man, taking his time to work him open slowly. Not that a slow speed will do much good. The demon tastes blood as he slips his slender tongue inside. He flicks it around skillfully, making Henry squirm even more at the strange feeling. 

Bendy lifts his head after a moment, flicking his tongue like a snake. Then he laps at Henry's flaccid cock, wrapping his tongue around it and drawing it into his mouth. 

Henry twists his mouth and tightens his throat to keep from making a sound. Though Bendy is very talented, the last thing he wants to do is give the monster the satisfaction of hearing Henry groan in pleasure. The tongue wraps firmly around his head and teases the sensitive underside, then Bendy dips his head lower and swallows against him, still working his tongue around. 

Henry can't believe it. His body is torn and broken, but somehow, he is getting hard. He can't help it. Bendy's warm, wet mouth is too skillful, and Henry's body reacts to the stimulation. The demon starts bobbing his head quickly, feeling Henry's cock harden and twitch in his mouth. Bendy goes down one more time, taking him all the way in, and hums around his cock. Then he pulls up and lets him go with a thick strand of black saliva still connecting them. 

Henry is breathing hard. The man blinks up through his tears at the grinning demon. 

“Look who's all ready for me, now. This isn't so bad, right, Henry?” the monster mocks. He grabs some inky spit from his mouth, gives himself a few more pumps, then gets into position. The head of his large cock nudges against Henry's raw body.  
The poor man can't help himself. He starts making a soft whining sound in fear and protest. It's going to hurt. It already hurts. It's about to hurt a fuck of a lot more. And here he is, spread out wide and unable to fight or pull back or close his legs even a little bit. 

His body is tense, which Henry knows is a bad thing. If this is happening, and it really seems to be, then he should relax so it'll go in easier. Still, he trembles with a tension he can feel with every beat of his heart.

Bendy pushes against Henry, but doesn't get inside. He adjusts his angle slightly and tries again. Henry cries out. The pressure against him is sharp and hurts his wounds. Bendy pushes a third time, much harder now, and manages to break through. 

Henry's fists clench and his back arches as he screams in agony, twisting his back desperately but uselessly. The pain in his behind even manages to drown out his wrecked arm. 

Bendy grins at him. “Aww, Henry-o, I'm only a lil bit in. No need to be so loud n dramatic.” He hums a bit and wiggles his hips slightly, pushing against Henry a little more. “You are really tight, though. You've got every muscle in your body clenched, huh? That's too bad for you, but feel free to keep doin' that. Feels amazing.” 

Henry glares at Bendy through tear filled eyes, but says nothing. 

“I've heard the phrase before,” Bendy continues. “Ya know, 'my kid is such a pain in the ass!' or whatever. Now you can say that literally. Cause I'm your kid, hurting your ass. But also. I'm a pain. Who's inside your asshole. Get it? Do ya get it, Henry?” 

When the man does not respond, Bendy bucks his hips harshly, shoving himself the rest of the way in. Once more, Henry howls and writhes. Bendy ignores him and starts pumping quickly, shredding the man's insides with his barbs and grunting with every thrust. Henry makes a soft whimper every time Bendy draws back and scratches his insides. Their bodies clap wetly together as Henry bleeds and Bendy drools. 

Henry wants to plead, to beg the demon to stop. But he knows there's no point. Bendy is going to do what he wants to do, and begging will only give the monster more perverse pleasure. So Henry keeps his teeth clenched tightly closed until his jaw aches.  
After a few minutes, Bendy takes a rest, breathing hard as he leans over Henry, palms flat on the floor. Bendy happens to glance over at Eleven, who cowers in a huddle against the wall, eyes shut and hands pressed over his ears. 

“Eleven,” Bendy says. The man flinches but does not move. “Eleven. Be a good boy and come here.” The abused man hesitates for only a moment, then slowly drops his hands from his ears and stands up, moving stiffly from being curled on the floor for so long. “There's a good boy,” Bendy purrs, still buried inside of Henry. “Take your pants off. Yes, good. Now kneel down on the floor, right here. That's right. Suck Henry's dick.”

Eleven hesitates again, looking up at Bendy with large eyes. “B-but, Bendy-”

“No. Do it now. Be sure to stick your ass up in the air, too.”

Still moving slowly, Eleven obeys, bending down over Henry. As he moves, Bendy reaches over and grabs him by the hip, turning the man so the demon can play with his ass while Eleven services Henry. Eleven takes his friend's cock into his mouth while Bendy pushes a spit slicked finger against his hole. 

The former FBI agent mewls with his mouth full of dick. The mewl turns into a yelp when Bendy pushes his finger inside. The monster chuckles at the two's discomfort and starts moving his hips again. 

“What's better than raping my father? Raping my father and his best friend at the same time,” he laughs. Then Bendy pulls his finger out and summons more ink, forming a butt plug, then pushes it sharply into Eleven's behind, causing him to yank his head up and cry out, his back arching as he flinches away. 

“Come on, Eleven, I know you can do better than that. Take him deeper. All the way, til his hair tickles your nose,” Bendy commands. 

Eleven knows if he doesn't, Bendy will simply push his head down and force him. So he relaxes his throat and pushes his own head down until Henry's cock disappears completely. After a few months of being Bendy's slave, such things are easy enough for Eleven. He uses one hand to help while he bobs his head on his friend's cock. “That's better. I knew you had more skill than that, buddy. I've experienced it firsthand, after all. Make good ole Dad feel real good.” Bendy gives Henry a few sharp hits with his hips, timing himself to Eleven's oral. “Sammy. I know you're awake and watching. Come here.” 

“Yes, my lord,” comes the prompt response. A moment later Sammy appears, hands already hovering near the button of his pants. 

Bendy chuckles, “So eager. Yes, get naked. Eleven, kneel over Henry and put your cock in his mouth.”

Eleven sits up and does as he's told, but Henry's mouth remains firmly shut. “Aww, Henry,” the demon mocks. “Don't you want to play along? Fine, just grind on his face, Eleven. Get your balls on his mouth. Good boy, just like that. Now take Sammy in your mouth.” 

Bendy continues to hump Henry, able to give the man his full physical attention while watching the depravity that he is orchestrating. The monster chuckles and runs his palms over Henry's hips, enjoying the forced foursome. 

Well, half forced, anyway. Sammy seems to be enjoying himself, cupping the back of Eleven's head in his palms and guiding him faster on his cock. Henry gives a strained, muffled cough underneath Eleven, trying to breathe around him without opening his mouth. The only downside for Bendy is that it's distracting Henry from the pain that the demon is giving him. To compensate for that, he grows his spines a little longer and stiffer, and picks up his speed a little, leaning down over Henry to put more of his weight behind his thrusts. 

It works. Henry starts yelping and twisting again. “Get your dick in him, now, Eleven,” Bendy growls. To his great joy, Eleven gets his limp cock into Henry's mouth. The unfortunate man sputters and tries to spit it out, but fails because he does not want to hurt his friend. 

“You're doing so good, Eleven. You take direction so well, willing to do anything for your master. You'll take any cock, and put your dick anywhere for me, won't you? I think you deserve a reward for your hard work. Come here.” 

It takes Eleven a moment to get himself untangled from the other men. Sammy, especially, does not want to let go of him, but releases him on Bendy's command. Eleven approaches Bendy carefully, eyes on the floor. The demon pulls back from Henry, leaving the space between the man's legs open. 

“Fuck Henry.” 

Eleven's eyes dart to Henry's bleeding body, then flick back to the floor. His hands go to his own flaccid penis, cupping himself. “Please, Bendy... Don't make me hurt Henry...” 

“What do you mean? You'll hurt him a lot less than I just was. If anything, you're saving Henry. That cock of yours is a bit of a problem, though. Ole Henry's mouth just not doing it for ya?” 

Eleven makes a defeated stammering sound, but doesn't really answer. Bendy slides closer, still kneeling on the floor, and takes Eleven into his mouth. As he works the man, his other hand slides behind him to play with his hole some more, wiggling the plug and making the ink shift until he finds Eleven's special spot. Eleven rests his hands on Bendy's shoulders and tries to steady his breathing.

A few moments later, Bendy pulls his mouth back and grins up at Eleven. “There ya go. Problem solved. Fuck Henry.” 

When Eleven continues to hesitate, Bendy grabs him and yanks him onto his knees, shoving him into position over Henry. 

Henry peers down briefly at Eleven's wide eyes, then drops his head back to the ground and squeezes his eyes shut. Once more, Henry doesn't bother protesting. He knows Eleven has no more of a choice in this than he does. 

Eleven's own eyes are also closed. He doesn't want to see what he's about to do. He can still feel Henry's warm body and skin, though. There's nothing he can do to avoid that.

Bendy groans in frustration, and settles in behind Eleven. He reaches around the man and takes a hold of him, guiding him into place, then pushing him in. 

“There ya go. Now fuck him. Good boy,” Bendy purrs as Eleven starts to move his hips. “Get all the way in there, now,” the demon pushes Eleven a little closer. 

Henry's body feels good wrapped around him. The agent can't help that. Behind his closed eyes, the physical stimulation is starting to drive him forward, especially with Bendy in his ear, whispering dirty things and encouragements to him. 

Bendy is enjoying the show, especially since Eleven is obviously starting to enjoy himself, willingly or not. But the demon wants to get in on this action. So he his dismisses the ink once plugging Eleven's behind, and shifts his legs, trying to get his goat anatomy arranged in a position that works. He then grabs a hold of Eleven, stilling him so the demon can force his way inside of the man. 

Eleven moans, starting to feel overstimulated. It hurts, of course, but he's very used to that. When the monster shifts a little, his cock brushes against Eleven in just the right way, and he moans a second time. Bendy adjusts his grip on the man and starts to move. Every pump of his hips forces Eleven firmly into Henry. Henry keeps his eyes closed and tries to not think about who is hurting him now. He only has a vague idea that Bendy is also back there, doing something horrible, as usual. But it's not worth opening his eyes to see what's going on. It doesn't matter, anyway. Then from above him, a pitiful voice speaks up.

“My lord, please...” as well as the disgusting sound of a fist pumping wet flesh. 

Bendy is out of breath as he grunts, “Use Henry's mouth.” 

Sammy is much more knowledgeable about certain things than Eleven is. So when Sammy kneels down over Henry, and he tries to clench his teeth shut, Sammy simply pinches the man's nose closed. Henry tries to hiss air through his teeth, but with his body snapping back and forth with the abuse he's currently enduring, it's not long before his mouth pops open to yelp again. 

Sammy quickly wedges his thumb into the corner of Henry's mouth, keeping it open. His cock soon follows. 

Before today, Henry has never had his mouth used this way before. Taking Eleven in his mouth was bad enough, but Sammy is aroused and looking for pleasure. He hits the back of Henry's throat, and the poor man starts to gag, his body bucking with the force of it. Burps start to bubble up as well, and he has the presence of mind to be glad that his stomach is empty as the burps turn acidic. 

Henry's struggle with Sammy's cock is making his body clench and relax, clench and relax. Eleven starts to groan with pleasure. Between Bendy hitting his prostate and Henry tightening around his cock, he's not going to last much longer

Right before he peaks, though, Bendy stops moving. Eleven whines needily, desperate for release. 

“Aww, what's wrong, Eleven?” the demon asks. “You want me to keep fuckin' ya?”

“It... It feels good,” the man pants.

“I know it does. But that doesn't answer my question. You want me to keep fuckin' ya? Or you want me to give it to Henry instead? Cause I can stop, let ya go...”

“No, please. I'm so close. Just a little while longer...”

“You want me to fuck you?”

“Yes, Bendy, please fuck me. Please. I need it.”

“Well since you asked so nicely...” Bendy snaps his hips forward aggressively, and Eleven yelps in pain. It takes him a minute to relax back into it and build the pressure back up again. 

“Hah- Bendy, please, B-Bendy!” Eleven grips Henry's side with one hand and cums hard, his spine shivering and bucking slightly with the intensity of it. Bendy latches his teeth into the back of Eleven's neck and follows suit, also cumming, his tail lashing with pleasure and groaning softly. 

Elven takes a moment to breathe and recover. Then he blinks his eyes open and looks down at Henry, who is still choking on Sammy. Overwhelming guilt crashes over him. He just came inside Henry. Even worse, he begged to do it. With a defeated sob, Eleven's arms give and he starts to physically collapse. Bendy chuckles and wraps his arms around Eleven to keep him upright. 

“What's wrong, Eleven? Did ya have fun? Henry's fun to cum inside, isn't he?” Bendy's tail thwaps on the floor. He couldn't be more pleased with how this is going. Henry is being completely used, and Eleven is finally starting to break and enjoy his role as a sex toy. He wants to keep this going. This is definitely arousing enough for him to go a second, if not a third, time. 

A horrid retching sound pulls Bendy's focus back to Henry and Sammy. 

“Sammy, stop. Let him breathe.” Bendy grins. “Henry, you think I'm terrible. At least I let people breathe,” he laughs. 

Sammy obeys and pulls his cock out. Henry turns his head to spit, then takes a few wet sounding gasps. 

“Hmm, I think we need to switch things up a little, here. Eleven, Henry's still got a hard cock. Why don't you hop up on him and take care of that? After what you just did to him, it's only polite,” he adds wickedly. 

Eleven doesn't move, just stays slumped over, defeated. Bendy allows him only a moment, then snaps his teeth near the man's ear in a clear threat. Eleven flinches, and slowly sits up, bracing his hands on Henry's stomach, and shifting so he's straddling the still pinned man. He adjusts himself and takes Henry's cock in his hand to guide it into the hole Bendy was just occupying. He sinks slowly down onto Henry, groaning softly yet again as his body takes the cock. 

“Good boy, Eleven. Now fuck yourself on him,” the monster mumbles.

As always, Eleven obeys. He braces himself on Henry's chest and starts bouncing on his cock, finding a rhythm. 

Henry, glad to no longer have a dick down his throat, blinks tears out of his eyes and tries to figure out what's happening to him now. Still forced spread open in a position that's really starting to hurt his hips and shoulders, especially with people bouncing their weight on him, Henry struggles against the ink binding him again. It somehow takes him a moment longer to realize what Eleven is doing now. He watches as his cock buries itself into his friend's body repeatedly. No, he doesn't want this. He doesn't want to fuck his friend. But it's a little late to go back now. 

“Eleven, stop. I don't want this,” Henry tries. 

“He doesn't have a choice, silly Henry,” Bendy grins. “I want you to cum inside of Eleven. But I can tell you're going to resist this. So let me help you along, here...” 

Bendy's face disappears from over Eleven's shoulder, and a moment later Henry feels a blunt, clawed finger push inside his wounded body. Though he knows there's nothing he can do about it, his body still gives an exhausted spasm, tired muscles and sore joints yanking against themselves. 

“Hmm, Eleven's cum makes this a little easier,” Bendy's amused voice reaches Henry. The man forces himself to relax. With all that's happened to Henry, including his torn back rubbing against the floor with every push against him, he is simply spent. So he goes limp and lets his eyes drift closed, taking this as a slight reprieve from the pain he's suffered. Until Sammy's voice pipes back up.

“My lord... My generous, giving, wonderful lord...” Sammy whines. 

From behind Eleven, Bendy looks back up at his prophet. He's having such fun with his new sheep that he keeps forgetting about Sammy, who's left standing there, pumping his cock in his hand. 

“Hang on, SamSam,” Bendy mumbles. “Henry's just starting to relax a lil. Give it a few minutes.”

Bendy's finger finds the right spot, causing Henry to jerk. The demon grins and starts working him in time with Eleven, determined to get the man to cum. 

As much as Henry doesn't want it, he is too tired to fight it. His used body relaxes into the feeling, and even starts to respond, his hips moving just slightly in time with Eleven and Bendy. When Henry cums, it's more a biological response to stimulation than anything else. Still, Bendy purrs happily when Henry's back arches slightly and he trembles a bit in a weak orgasm. 

“Good boy, Eleven,” Bendy mumbles, hooking the man with his claws and directing him off of Henry. “You've got two inside you, now. How's it feel? You ready for more?”

Eleven is also quite tired. He's gotten a workout already, and is still upset about what he's done to Henry. So, no, he is very much not ready to keep going. He's ready to collapse against the wall and, preferably, never get up again. In fact, Eleven thinks to himself, if he could just die right now, that would be great. Especially if it saves him from more use. 

“Sammy, come here.” Sammy immediately obeys, stepping over to where Bendy is. Bendy grabs the back of Eleven's neck and shoves him roughly face down on the floor. “Fuck Eleven.” 

Sammy drops to his knees behind Eleven and grabs the man by the hips, yanking his rump back up into the air. He eagerly pushes into Eleven's well used hole, and starts dicking Eleven down like a rabid animal. The exhausted man can only manage a pained grunt, then stays quiet as he's used. 

Bendy stays near his head and keeps him pinned down by the neck. “Good boy, Eleven, just stay still and let Sammy take you. It'll be over soon.” 

“Bendy,” Henry mumbles. “My hips. Please, just a little relief...” 

“You are old, if you're complaining about your hips hurting,” Bendy teases. Still, he releases the ink holding the man's legs up and apart, and Henry moans when his legs can finally straighten again. 

Sammy is still going as hard and fast as he can, desperate for release after being neglected. His jaw is clenched and his teeth bared as he grunts in pleasure. It doesn't take him long to finish, suddenly going still deep inside of Eleven as he gasps and snarls with his climax. 

Bendy releases Eleven's neck and sits back, palming himself and grinning. He's getting aroused again, and his tail taps on the wooden floor as he considers his many, many options for sex. So many toys to pick from, so many holes he can use. He decides to use what's in front of him, and grabs Eleven's head to shove his face against Bendy's crotch. 

Eleven lets out a tired mewl, but weakly laps at Bendy in a pathetic attempt to please him. A moment later Bendy has his head in a tight grip, and face fucks him enthusiastically. When Eleven starts to have trouble breathing, he releases him, and the man jerks back with a coughing gasp, only to sink again to the floor. 

Bendy chuckles yet again. “You're so useless, Eleven. Good thing you have another hole to use. Turn around and give me that ass.” 

Eleven flops around as he tries to follow Bendy's command, but his body doesn't respond like it used to. The demon has to help him get into position. As Eleven submits to being used yet again, Henry starts to protest. 

“Bendy, stop. You're hurting him. He's had enough. He can't even move anymore.”

“Great! That's perfect. He can just lie here and be taken, just as he was made to do,” the demon pants as he pumps his hips. 

“No, Bendy, please. He's not ok. Just... You can take me, instead.”

Bendy turns to glance at Henry, a bit surprised. “You're volunteering to take his place?”

Henry sighs weakly from where he is still half-stuck to the floor. “It's not like you haven't already....” 

Bendy grins and starts to pull out of Eleven. 

“No, Bendy, wait.” Eleven weakly gasps. “Use me instead. I deserve it. It's all I'm good for. Leave Henry alone and take me.”

Bendy's grin widens. Can this day get any better? 

 

Henry is not sure how many days have passed. He just knows he's been stuck here in the Studio for far too long. He feels hot with a fever, and knows that enough though Eleven did his best to tend to Henry's back, the scratches have become infected. He simply can't move without causing himself great pain. He watches dully as Sammy fucks Eleven. The former FBI agent has changed. Instead of resisting, he pushes back against Sammy and cries out in pleasure.

“Please, Sammy, it's so good. Sammy, ugh, harder, yes, give it to me, Sammy, Sammy--”

Henry turns his tired eyes away. He's not surprised Eleven finally broke. The poor man had been through so much. Henry supposes it's better that he enjoy it rather than suffer through it. After all, it doesn't look like their lot in life is going to change any time soon. If or when they do ever get out of here, they can worry about picking up the broken pieces of their lives then. For now, survival is all that matters. 

Bendy sits next to Henry, watching the show the other two are putting on for them. He palms himself, slowly becoming aroused. “Eleven has turned into such a good little toy. Ya know, Sammy was the same way, at first. Hated sex, didn't want it, whined every time, had to be forced. But enough times and he started to like it, even ask for it and crave it. Need it. Now Eleven is the same way.” 

Henry doesn't respond. 

Bendy turns his pie cut eyes to his creator. “So, Henry. How long will it take you to break?” When Henry still refuses to speak, Bendy chuckles. “Come here and lick me.”

Henry hesitates, leaning away from Bendy. The monster reaches over and grazes his claws over Henry's makeshift sling. He had torn the sleeve off his shirt to rig it. His arm blooms in many deep purples and greens, especially around the elbow. Henry flinches at the clear threat. But Bendy has hurt his arm often enough that the effect is wearing off a bit. When Henry fails to scramble to do the demon's bidding, he grins crookedly at the human.

“Oh Sammy?” Bendy calls over. “Give Eleven a good bite, really tear into him for me.” 

“Wait, don't-” Henry protests. But it's too late, Eleven is already screaming. Henry glares at Bendy's evil face, but moves closer to him. 

Bendy chuckles, hooks his claws around the back of Henry's neck, and pulls his face down into his crotch. 

“There ya go, Henryo. You'll learn, you'll learn. They always do...”


End file.
